The  Cruise  of  the  Dry  Dock 


They  were  at  last  under  the  overhang  of  the  mysterious  schooner. 


The  Cruise 
of  the  Dry  Dock 


By 


T.  S.  Stribling 


Illustrated  by 
Herbert  Morton  Stoops 


The  Reilly  &  Britton  Co. 

Chicago 


if '7 


Copyright,  1917 

By 
The  Reilly  &  Britton  Co. 


The  Cruise  of  the  Dry  Dock 


G 


Lovingly  Dedicated 

to 
My  Mother 


CONTENTS 

I  The   Dry   Dock 11 

II  Adventure  Begins   31 

III  The  Last  of  the  Vulcan 48 

IV  An  Interrupted  Meeting 68 

V  Sail  Ho!   91 

VI  The  Cul  de  Sac 108 

VII  Trapped 119 

VIII  The  Mystery  Ship 130 

IX  A  Modern  Columbus 144 

X  The  Strange  End  of  the  Minnie  B  161 

XI  Caradoc  Shows  His  Mettle 171 

XII  The  Return  of  the  Vulcan 187 

XIII  The  Sea  Serpent 204 

XIV  Caradoc  Wins  His  Fight 215 

XV  Towed!    231 

XVI  Caradoc  Takes  Command 255 

XVII  The  Get-Away  270 

XVIII  Nerve  Versus  Gunpowder 282 

XIX  Chased  by  a  Submarine 297 

XX  The  Lone  Chance  309 

XXI  The  Battle    320 

XXII  The  Victoria   Cross    335 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

They  Were  at  Last  Under  the  Overhang 
of  the  Mysterious  Schooner Frontispiece 

Out    There    Lay    Adventure,    Mystery  — 
More  Than  Either  Dreamed Page    48 

Caradoc  Stands  the  Acid  Test Page  184 

The  Battle  Page  332 


The  Cruise  of  the  Dry  Dock 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  She's  movin' !  "  cried  a  voice  from  the  crowd 
on  the  wharf  side.     "Watch  'er!    Watch  'er!" 
A  dull  English  cheer  rippled  over  the  water 
front. 

"Blarst  if  I  see  why  she  moves!"  marveled 
an  onlooker.  "That  tug  looks  like  a  water  bug 
'itched  to  a  'ouse-boat  —  it's  hunreasonable !  " 

"  Aye,  but  they're  tur'ble  stout,  them  tugs  be," 
argued  a  companion. 

"  It's  hunreasonable,  just  the  same,  'Enry !  " 
"  Everything's  hunreasonable  at  sea,   'Arry. 
W'y  w'en  chaps  put  to  sea  they  tell  w'ere  they're 
at  by  lookin'  at  th'  sun.3' 

"  Aw !    An'  not  by  lookin'  at  th'  map?  " 
"  By  lookin'  at  th'  sun,  'pon  honor !  " 
"  Don't  try  to  jolly  me  like  that,  'Enry,  me 
lad;  that's  more  hunreasonable  than  this." 

11 


12        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

By  this  time  the  cheers  had  become  general 
and  the  conversation  broke  off.  An  enormous 
floating  dry  dock,  towed  by  an  ocean-going  tug, 
slowly  drew  away  from  the  ship  yards  on  the 
south  bank  of  the  Thames,  just  below  London. 
The  men  on  the  immense  metal  structure,  haul 
ing  in  ropes,  looked  like  spiders  with  gossamers. 
A  hundred  foot  bridge  which  could  be  lifted  for 
the  entrance  of  ocean  liners,  spanned  the  open 
stern  of  the  dock  and  braced  her  high  side  walls. 
These  walls  rose  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  were  some 
forty  feet  thick  and  housed  the  machinery  which 
pumped  out  the  pontoons  and  raised  the  two 
bridges,  one  at  each  end.  The  tug,  the  Vulcan, 
which  stood  some  two  hundred  yards  down 
stream,  purring  monotonously  at  the  end  of  a 
cable,  did  seem  utterly  inadequate  to  tow  such 
a  mass  of  metal.  Nevertheless,  to  the  admira 
tion  of  the  crowd,  the  speed  of  the  convoy 
slowly  increased. 

Tug  and  dock  were  well  under  way  when  the 
onlooking  line  was  suddenly  disrupted  by  a  well- 
dressed  youth  who  came  bundling  a  large  suit 
case  through  the  press  and  did  not  pause  until 
on  the  edge  of  the  green  moulded  wharf. 


THE  DRY  DOCK  13 

"  Boat ! "  he  hailed  in  sharp  Yankee  accent, 
gesticulating  at  a  public  dory.  "  Here,  put  me 
aboard  that  dry  dock,  will  you?  Hustle!  the 
thing's  gathering  way !  " 

"A  little  late,"  observed  a  voice  at  the  new 
comer's  elbow. 

"  Yes,  I  hung  around  London  Tower  trying 
to  see  the  crown  jewels,  then  I  broke  for  St. 
Paul's  for  a  glimpse  of  Nelson's  Monument,  then 
I  ran  down  to  Marshalsea,  where  Little 
Dorrit's  father  —  make  haste  there,  you  slow 
poke  water-rat!  Rotton  London  bus  service 
threw  me  six  minutes  late ! "  he  concluded. 

The  American's  explosive  energy  quickly  made 
him  a  focus  of  interest. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do?"  smiled  the 
Englishman,  "jump  out  of  a  Cook's  tour  into 
a  floating  dock?  " 

The  American  turned  on  the  joker  and  saw  a 
tall,  well-set-up  young  fellow  with  extraordi 
narily  broad  shoulders,  long  brown  face,  stubby 
blond  mustache,  who  looked  down  on  him  with 
amused  gray  eyes. 

"  In  a  way,"  grinned  the  man  with  the  suit 
case.  "I'm  knocking  about  all  over  the  map, 


14        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

trying  to  see  if  the  world  is  really  round.  Got 
a  job  aboard  that  dock  —  going  with  her  to 
Buenos  Aires  —  Say,  slow-boy,  is  that  dory  of 
yours  anchored,  or  is  it  really  coming  this  way?  " 

"  Coomin'  that  way,  sor !  "  wheezed  the  water 
man  from  below. 

"  That's  a  coincidence/'  observed  the  stranger, 
twirling  his  pale  mustache.  "  I  had  a  berth  on 
her,  too."  He  indicated  a  huge  English  kit  bag 
at  his  feet. 

"Then  you'd  better  get  a  move  on  if  you're 
going! "  snapped  the  American,  instantly  taking 
charge  of  the  whole  affair.  "  Shoot  your  grip 
here !  "  He  stood  ready  to  receive  and  deliver  it 
to  the  boatman  who  had  landed  below. 

"  Had  about  decided  not  to  go,"  frowned  the 
Briton  with  an  odd  change  of  manner.  "  It  looks 
—  er  —  so  nasty  over  there  —  still,  if  you  can 

endure  it  I  suppose  I "  the  final  phrase  was 

lost  in  the  swing  at  his  big  kit  bag. 

The  American  followed  the  luggage  hurriedly ; 
the  tall  fellow  lowered  himself  calmly  and  with 
a  certain  precision  into  the  stern  of  the  dory. 
The  boatman  set  out  toward  the  gliding  mass  of 
iron. 


THE  DRY  DOCK  15 

The  blond  youth  surveyed  their  distance  from 
the  great  dock  and  marked  its  deliberate  but 
deceptive  speed. 

"  I  doubt  whether  we  catch  it  after  all,"  he 
remarked  with  slight  interest  in  his  voice. 

"  Then  we'll  take  a  train  to  Gravesend  and  get 
aboard  boat  there,"  planned  the  American 
promptly. 

A  smile  glimmered  on  the  long  brown  face  for 
a  moment.  "  That's  very  Yankee-like,  I  believe," 
he  said  complimentarily. 

With  the  brisk  friendliness  of  his  nation,  the 
Yankee  drew  a  morocco  case  from  his  pocket. 
"  Leonard  Madden  is  my  name,"  he  said  as  he 
offered  a  bit  of  engraved  card. 

The  Englishman  started  to  reach  inside  his 
coat  but  paused.  "I  am  Caradoc  Smith,"  he 
replied  gravely.  Then,  as  an  afterthought,  he 
drew  a  small  silver-mounted  flask  from  his 
pocket,  unscrewed  the  cap,  poured  it  full  of  a 
liquor  and  offered  it. 

"  To  a  pleasant  acquaintance  and  a  profitable 
journey,  Mr.  Madden/'  he  began  ceremoniously. 

A  slight  flush  reddened  the  white  skin  at  Mad- 
den's  collar,  but  did  not  show  on  his  tanned  face. 


16       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

It  always  embarrassed  him  to  be  forced  to  reject 
friendly  overtures. 

"Sorry,"  he  shook  his  head;  " don't  use  it. 
But  the  wish  goes." 

The  Englishman  looked  his  surprise.  "  Then, 
if  you  don't  object "  he  lifted  pale  brows. 

"  Certainly  not;  do  as  you  like." 

Smith  tossed  the  capful  down  his  throat. 
"  You  know,  I've  met  several  Americans,"  he 
commented  more  warmly,  "  and  half  of  them 
don't  use  alcoholics.  Strange  thing  —  can't 
fancy  why." 

Madden  went  into  no  explanation.  They  were 
nearing  the  dock  by  this  time  and  their  boatman 
began  a  hoarse  calling  for  some  one  on  board  to 
toss  a  line. 

It  was  like  shouting  for  a  man  in  a  city  block. 
The  basal  pontoon  rose  twelve  feet  above  their 
heads;  beyond  this  towered  the  thick  side  walls 
spanned  by  the  bridge.  The  waterline  of  the 
whole  dock  was  painted  a  bright  red,  some  four 
feet  high,  and  above  this  rose  an  expanse  of  raw 
black  iron,  punctuated  with  long  rows  of  shining 
rivet  heads. 

The  boatman  was  rowing  at  top  speed  and 


THE  DRY  DOCK  17 

bellowing  like  an  asthmatic  fog  horn.  "  We'll 
never  git  nobody,"  he  wheezed.  "  Nobody  seems 
to  stay  around  this  section  of  th'  dock,  sor." 

Madden  raised  a  lusty  shout ;  the  great  struc 
ture  was  slowly  increasing  her  speed. 

"  Yell,  Smith,  yell ! "  he  counseled  between 
shouts.  "  We  may  not  be  able  to  get  a  train  to 
Gravesend  in  time !  " 

"  I'm  not  that  eager  to  go,"  observed  the  Eng 
lishman  with  a  shrug. 

The  dory  was  falling  behind.  Madden  leaped 
up,  ran  to  the  oars  and  began  pushing  as  the 
boatman  pulled.  Their  united  efforts  just  kept 
the  blunt  little  dory  in  the  hissing  wake  of  the 
dock. 

"Help!  Line!  Aboard  dock!  Lend  a  line!" 
the  two  of  them  roared  discordantly. 

"  We're  not  going  to  make  it!  "  cried  Madden 
desperately.  "  Lend  a  hand  here,  Smith !  " 

At  that  moment  a  dark  head  with  sharp  black 
mustaches  popped  over  the  stern  of  the  dock. 

"  Ah-ha !  A  race !  "  cried  the  man  above  in  a 
French  accent.  "  Come,  Mike,  zee  the  English 
sporting  speerit !  Voila !  What  a  race  —  a  dory 
and  a  dry  dock!" 


18       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"Throw  us  a  line!"  shrieked  Madden,  "you 
blithering  —  think  this  is  fun?  " 

"  Ah,  pardon,  a  thousand  pardons !  I  hasten !  " 

He  disappeared  and  a  few  seconds  later  a  coil 
of  rope  came  hurtling  down.  Madden  caught  it 
and  his  toil  was  over.  A  moment  later  another 
sailor,  of  distinct  Irish  physiognomy,  dropped 
down  a  rope  ladder  to  the  boat.  They  paid  the 
sweating  boatman  a  double  fare,  climbed  up  and 
hoisted  their  bags  with  the  line. 

Only  when  on  board  did  the  lads  appreciate 
the  enormous  size  of  the  dock.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  throw  a  baseball  from  one  end 
to  the  other.  The  black  sides  rose  above  them 
like  an  iron  canyon.  Ranging  down  these  preci 
pices  were  innumerable  huge  iron  stanchions  for 
the  shoring  of  •  ocean  liners.  Toward  the  for 
ward  end  of  the  dock  was  a  two  hundred  ton 
pile  of  coal,  for  the  use  of  the  tug,  but  it  was 
dwarfed  to  the  size  of  a  kitchen  supply  by  the 
black  expanse  around  it.  On  the  other  side  there 
were  erected  a  few  temporary  wooden  houses  to 
serve  as  kitchen,  dining  room,  and  quarters  for 
the  crew  on  the  voyage.  There  were  a  group  of 
men  loitering  about  these  cabins. 


THE  DRY  DOCK  19 

The  newcomers  still  stared  at  their  gigantic 
surroundings  when  the  interested  Frenchman 
said  politely: 

"  It  ees  large,  beeg,  yes?  " 

"Where's  the  boss?"  inquired  Leonard. 
"  We've  got  jobs  aboard  this  craft/' 

"  He  is  making  out  the  papers  now,  I  think, 
and  ees  in  a  bad  temper,  too." 

With  this  discouraging  information,  the  two 
young  men  started  for  the  officers'  cabin.  As 
they  entered  the  place  they  met  a  crew  of  typical 
London  longshoresmen  coming  out.  Inside,  a 
stocky  purple-cheeked  cockney  stood  at  a  little 
desk  and  glowered  at  them  with  small  red  eyes. 

"'Ow's  this?"  he  growled  sharply,  and  in 
some  surprise.  "You  are  not  in  th'  crew  Hi 
picked  hup." 

"  No,  we  applied  at  the  office " 

"Hoffice,  hoffice,"  snarled  the  man.  "Wot 
do  they  know  about  men,  settin'  hup  there  with 
their  legs  cocked  hup?  Wot  is  it  ye  want 
anyway?  " 

Leonard  silently  offered  a  paper  he  had  re 
ceived  from  the  British  Towing  and  Shipping 
Company.  The  mate  wrinkled  his  half  inch  of 


20       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

knobbly  brow  as  he  read  the  paper  in  a  low 
undertone,  after  the  manner  of  illiterate  men. 

"  And  by  the  way,  my  man,"  began  Caradoc 
in  stiff  condescension,  "we  would  like  one  of 
those  cabins  to  ourselves." 

The  mate  flung  up  a  club-like  head  and  threw 
back  his  blocky  shoulders.  "My  man!"  he 
gasped.  "  Ye  call  me  my  man,  ye  little  cigarette- 
suckin'  silk-hatted  Johnny  —  orderin'  private 
cabins!  W'ot  ye  think  this  is  —  a  floatin' 
'otel?" 

Madden  bit  his  lip  to  keep  from  smiling  at  the 
odd  play  of  anger  and  surprise  on  Smith's  long 
expressive  face. 

"  No  harm  meant,  Mr. "  began  the  Amer 
ican  soothingly. 

"  Malone  —  Mate  Malone !  "  stormed  the 
angry  officer  by  way  of  introduction. 

"  You  understand  how  friends  prefer  to  bunk 
together  instead  of  with  strangers.  We  thought 
we  would  ask  you  about  it." 

This  soothed  the  irascible  fellow  somewhat. 
Still  glowering,  he  spraddled  out  of  the  cabin 
with  the  boys  after  him,  and  presently  indicated 
one  of  the  small  temporary  cabins  with  a  jerk  of 


THE  DRY  DOCK  21 

his  thumb.  As  to  whether  his  intentions  were 
kindly  or  cruel,  Madden  could  not  determine,  but 
their  lodgment  was  a  low  kennel-like  place,  the 
smallest  in  the  row.  Nevertheless  it  was  very 
clean  and  smelled  of  new  lumber.  It  held  four 
bunks,  two  on  a  side.  The  boys  dropped  their 
luggage  inside  with  the  pleasure  of  travelers 
reaching  their  destination. 

"  Got  no  fire  arms  nor  whiskey?  "  growled  the 
mate,  looking  through  the  door  at  his  new  men. 

Both  answered  in  the  negative. 

"  All  right ;  step  lively  now.  We  want  to  raise 
that  waterline  Jigh  enough  to  work  in  the  waves 
before  we  reach  th'  Channel." 

The  lads  shut  the  door  after  them,  then  started 
under  Malone's  direction  for  whatever  work  he 
had. 

They  found  the  whole  crew  swinging  along 
the  hundred  foot  front  of  the  dock,  broadening 
the  brilliant  red  waterline  with  all  possible  dis 
patch.  The  reason  for  attacking  the  front  first 
was  obvious.  In  case  of  rough  weather,  the  way 
of  the  dock  would  pile  the  waves  higher  ahead 
than  anywhere  else.  Leonard  and  his  new  friend 
lowered  themselves  on  a  swinging  platform  over 


22       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

the  twelve- foot  pontoon  and  joined  in  the  work. 

Tug  and  dock  were  now  passing  through  the 
congested  traffic  of  the  lower  Thames  and  the 
enormous  English  shipping  spread  in  a  pano 
rama  before  them.  Here  were  barges,  smacks, 
scows,  sailing  vessels ;  big  liners  plowing  through 
the  press  with  hoarse  whistles;  rusty  English 
tramps,  that  carried  the  Union  Jack  to  the  utter 
most  ends  of  the  earth.  Even  a  few  dread 
noughts  lay  castled  on  the  broadening  waters. 
On  both  sides  of  the  river,  dull  warehouses  and 
factories  stretched  out  rusty  wharves,  like 
myriad  fingers,  to  receive  the  tonnage  that  con 
verged  on  this  center  of  the  world's  activities. 

American  curiosity  almost  prevented  Madden 
from  working  at  all.  He  painted  intermittently, 
between  wonders,  so  to  speak.  As  for  Caradoc, 
he  made  no  pretense  to  labor,  but  propped  a 
broad  shoulder  against  the  supporting  rope, 
stuck  a  cigarette  under  his  white  mustache  and 
fell  to  regarding  the  waterscape  in  a  serious, 
preoccupied  fashion. 

"  Say,  old  man,"  warned  Leonard  in  an  under 
tone,  briskly  plying  his  brush,  "  that  mate  looked 
down  at  us  then.  He'll  raise  a  rough  house  if  we 


THE  DRY  DOCK  23 

don't  get  a  move  on  and  keep  our  section  up." 

Caradoc  came  out  of  his  muse,  tossed  his 
cigarette  into  the  swirling  water  a  few  feet 
below  him.  "  Impudent  chap !  "  he  snapped. 

Madden  laughed.  "  His  trade  is  to  get  work 
out  of  men  and  it  requires  impudence." 

Caradoc  grunted  something,  perhaps  an  as 
sent.  The  two  fell  briskly  to  work  and 
soon  made  an  impression  on  the  blank  iron  wall. 
At  first  the  American  chatted  of  this  and  that, 
rehearsing  his  own  aimless  ramblings  as  men 
will,  but  presently  he  observed  that  Smith  was 
painting  away  and  paying  no  attention  to  his 
partner's  chatter. 

"  What's  the  worry,  old  man?  "  queried  Mad 
den  lightly.  "  'Fraid  the  paint'll  give  out?  >J 

"  I  presume  they  have  sufficient  paint/' 
answered  Smith  stiffly,  as  he  flapped  his  brush 
across  the  bright  head  of  a  big  rivet. 

"  Why  —  yes,"  agreed  Madden,  a  little  taken 
aback,  "  but  you  look  like  you  might  be  getting 
up  a  grouch  at  something " 

"  About  time  to  pull  up,  isn't  it?  "  interrupted 
Smith. 

The  brusqueness  in  the  speech  grated  on  Mad- 


24        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

den,  but  they  hauled  up  their  platform  without 
further  remarks  on  either  side.  The  English 
man  seemed  to  work  slower  than  the  American, 
but  somehow  covered  as  much  ground. 

The  coat  of  red  paint  had  risen  considerably 
on  the  dock  when  the  bosun's  whistle  gave  a 
faint  shrill  from  the  deck.  The  whole  string  of 
painters  facing  the  pontoon's  bow  began  hauling 
up  their  platforms.  The  lads  followed  their 
example. 

Malone  was  hastily  pulling  his  crew  together 
in  the  mess  room  on  the  middle  pontoon.  He 
came  by  waving  his  short  heavy  arms  in  the 
direction  of  the  long  eating  room. 

"  Get  along  aft ;  you're  to  sign  the  ship's 
papers ! "  he  bawled  monotonously.  "  Get 
along!" 

Most  of  the  men  walked  faster  when  the 
mate  flung  his  arms  at  them.  Leonard  felt  the 
impulse  to  step  livelier  but  held  himself  to 
Caradoc's  deliberate  stride. 

In  the  mess  room  the  boys  found  a  com 
pact,  black-haired,  serious-faced  young  man  of 
unknown  nationality  reading  the  ship's  articles 
in  an  expressionless  tone.  Nobody  listened, 


THE  DRY  DOCK  25 

although  various  penalties  were  prescribed  for 
desertion,  quitting  ship  without  leave,  disobedi 
ence  of  orders,  each  with  its  particular  fine  or 
punishment.  When  the  reader  finished,  the  men 
walked  around  one  by  one  and  signed  the  reg 
ister.  Then  a  copy  of  the  articles  was  pointed 
out  on  the  side  of  the  mess  room,  and  again  no 
one  observed. 

The  performance  was  hardly  completed  when 
the  gong  rang  for  supper.  There  were  not  more 
than  a  dozen  men  at  mess.  Most  were  of  stolid 
English  navvy  type,  dirty  uncouth  men  whose 
gross  irregular  features  told  of  low  birth  and 
evil  life.  The  foreign  element  comprised  an 
Irishman  named  Mike  Hogan  and  the  French 
man  whom  the  boys  had  met  when  they  first 
came  aboard.  The  crowd  called  him  Dashalong. 
Upon  inquiry,  Leonard  found  it  to  be  Deschail- 
lon.  The  young  man  who  read  the  articles  was 
named  Farnol  Greer.  However,  he  proved  a 
silent,  taciturn  youth,  who  seemed  to  converse 
with  no  one  and  to  have  no  friends. 

In  the  long  narrow  eating  cabin  mingled  the 
clean  smell  of  newly  sawed  lumber  and  the  odor 
of  poor  cookery.  The  meal  proved  rather  worse 


26       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

than  ordinary  steerage  food.  After  the  first 
taste  Smith  put  it  by,  grumbling.  Leonard,  who 
was  hungry,  consumed  about  half  of  his. 

Beef  stew  and  boiled  white  fish  formed  the 
menu.  Perhaps  there  is  nothing  quite  so  slip 
pery  and  disheartening  as  boiled  white  fish 
grown  luke  warm  or  cold.  The  navvies  ate 
ravenously  enough,  but  Hogan  and  Deschaillon 
were  not  so  wolfish. 

Mike  speared  a  bit  on  his  fork  and  regarded 
it  sadly.  "  This  fish  reminds  me  uv  a  fun'ril," 
he  observed,  "  an'  yonder  lad  looks  to  be  chief 
mourner,"  he  nodded  toward  Farnol  Greer. 

"  He  ees  not  mourning  over  the  feesh," 
declared  Deschaillon  gayly.  "  He  ees  struck  on 
heemself,  and  found  his  affection  ees  misplaced.'* 

Madden  laughed.  The  spirits  of  the  Celt  and 
the  Gaul  seemed  to  improve  as  their  fare  grew 
worse. 

"  Oh,  av  course  a  f rog-atin'  Frinchman  loike 
you,  Dashalong,  would  think  any  kind  av  fish  a 
reg'lar  feast." 

Deschaillon  leaned  over  to  inspect  his  portion. 
"  Now  eet  does  very  well  —  to  wax  zee  mus 
tache,  Mike."  He  twirled  his  own. 


THE  DRY  DOCK  27 

Caradoc  grunted  disapproval  of  such  doubtful 
table  talk,  arose  and  left  the  rough  company  and 
rough  fare  with  supercilious  condemnation. 

"  Your  friend's  appetite  sames  as  dilicate  as 
his  wor-rkin'  powers,"  observed  Hogan  as  he 
watched  the  Englishman  stoop  and  disappear 
through  the  doorway. 

Madden  smiled.  "  We  didn't  work  any  too 
hard  this  afternoon,  did  we?  " 

Mike  and  Pierre  proved  droll  companions, 
ready  to  jibe  at  anyone  or  anything  in  perfect 
good  nature,  so  that  it  was  an  hour  before 
Leonard  strolled  outside.  As  he  had  no  further 
duty,  he  climbed  a  long  ladder  to  the  top  of  the 
high  dock  wall  and  walked  forward  toward  the 
bridge. 

By  this  time  the  sun  had  set  and  left  the  world 
filled  with  a  luminous  yellow  afterglow.  The 
estuary  of  the  Thames  had  widened  abruptly  off 
Sheerness,  and  far  to  the  south  was  the  dim  line 
of  chalk  cliffs  that  England  thrusts  toward 
France.  Overhead  stretched  a  translucent  yel 
low-green  sky  with  the  long  black  line  of  the 
Vulcan's  smoke  marking  it. 

Leonard    moved    across    the    bridge    slowly. 


28       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY.  DOCK 

There  was  almost  perfect  silence  over  the  great 
structure  below  him,  save  for  the  slow  creaking 
of  new  joints  in  the  iron  plates,  the  softened 
chough-choughing  of  the  tug  ahead. 

There  were  several  paint  barrels  piled  up  on 
the  bridge,  slung  there  no  doubt  by  machinery, 
to  prevent  the  men  having  to  toil  up  with  it  from 
below.  The  boy  leaned  against  one  of  these 
barrels,  gazing  into  the  yellow  flood  of  light  that 
bathed  everything  in  its  own  saffron.  His  heart 
beat  high  with  a  feeling  of  the  hazard  of  the 
ocean.  He  tried  to  fancy  what  would  happen  to 
the  huge  dock  as  it  adventured  through  tropic 
seas.  His  imagination  readily  conjured  up  a 
kaleidoscope  of  incidents  —  cannibal  proas, 
shark  rights,  sea  serpents,  typhoons,  mutinies, 
what  not. 

And  at  every  turn  of  the  tug's  propeller  all 
this  bright  dashing  world  of  adventure  drew 
nearer  and  nearer.  For  some  reason  he  recalled 
what  the  bystander  on  the  dock  had  said  — 
"  Everything  is  unreasonable  at  sea,"  and  he 
laughed  aloud. 

As  a  sort  of  gloomy  echo  of  his  laugh,  his  ear 
caught  a  groan  from  the  other  side  of  the  paint 


THE  DRY  DOCK  29 

barrels.  With  the  utmost  surprise  and  curiosity, 
he  straightened  up  and  moved  silently  around 
the  pile. 

Then  he  saw  the  tall  Englishman  leaning 
across  the  bridge  rail,  face  in  hands,  staring  at 
the  line  of  land  silhouetted  in  black  between  the 
brazen  sky  and  the  reflecting  water.  Smith's 
whole  attitude  was  so  suggestive  of  trouble  that 
Madden  moved  forward  in  generous  sympathy. 

The  Englishman  heard  the  movement, 
straightened,  looked  around;  his  long  face 
wore  a  look  of  suffering  in  the  colored  light. 

"  Sorry  you're  so  blue,  old  man,"  sympathized 
the  American,  making  a  guess  at  the  cause  of 
his  bad  spirits.  "  Let's  have  a  turn  around  this 
old  tub  and  forget  homesickness." 

"  Home!  "  echoed  Caradoc  gruffly.  "  It's  — 
it's  all  England  I'm  leaving.  It's  England  and 

honor  and "  he  stiffened  suddenly  and 

snarled  out :  "  Do  you  think  I  climbed  away 
up  here  on  this  bridge  hunting  your  company?  " 

Leonard  was  utterly  nonplussed  by  this  shift. 
"  I'm  sure  I  meant  no  harm " 

"  Certainly  not,"  sneered  Caradoc.  "  You 
Americans  have  the  undesired  friendliness  of 


30        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

stray  puppies  —  you  have  no  conception  of  per 
sonal  reserve  —  you  turn  your  souls  into  moral 
vaudevilles." 

A  flush  of  indignation  swept  over  Madden. 
"  That's  no  decent  return  for  a  friendly 
approach !  "  he  declared  hotly,  "  and  I'd  rather 
be  a  puppy  than  a  hedgehog  any  day !  " 

Caradoc  made  no  reply,  but  seemed  to  erase 
Madden  from  his  mind  and  shifted  slowly 
around  to  his  staring  and  his  thoughts. 

This  last  bit  of  impudence  fairly  clanged  on 
Madden's  temper.  He  felt  a  desire  to  tell  this 
coxcomb  just  what  he  thought  of  him.  If  Cara 
doc  had  remained  facing  the  American,  Madden 
might  have  done  so,  but  it  feels  foolish  to  rail 
at  a  profile.  Madden  wheeled  angrily,  tramped 
across  the  bridge,  then  down  the  high  side  of  the 
dock  toward  the  ladder.  From  far  below  him 
came  Hogan's  voice,  a  concertina,  and  the  sound 
of  clacking  feet.  Apparently  the  Irishman  had 
induced  someone  to  dance  a  jig. 


CHAPTER  II 
ADVENTURE  BEGINS 

Fortunately  for  the  British  Towing  and  Ship 
ping  Company,  the  next  few  days  were  glassy 
calm,  and  as  the  Vulcan  coughed  along  the 
South  England  coast,  the  crew  had  fair  oppor 
tunity  to  raise  the  coat  of  paint  out  of  danger. 

They  had  finished  the  ends  by  this  time  and 
were  now  working  on  the  high  exterior  sides  of 
the  dock.  The  labor  was  distasteful  to  Leonard, 
not  within  itself,  but  it  is  disagreeable  to  dangle 
in  midair  over  a  huge  iron  wall,  blue  water 
gurgling  below,  and  sit  beside  a  man  who  has 
affronted  one  by  calling  one's  manners  puppyish 
and  one's  soul  a  vaudeville.  Even  if  one  really 
be  fond  of  puppies  and  enjoy  vaudeville,  the 
implication  is  unpleasant. 

On  the  third  morning  after,  Caradoc  wielded 
his  brush  listlessly  and  looked  sick.  His  fine 
shoulders  sagged  and  his  eyes  were  hollow  in 

31 


32        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

his  long  face.  Leonard,  whose  spirits  naturally 
mounted  with  the  sun,  found  it  hard  to  continue 
the  three  days'  silence.  He  wanted  to  talk  about 
the  splendid  English  coast  with  its  gemlike  vil 
lages  set  in  green,  the  red-sailed  fishing  smacks, 
the  social  gulls  feeding  in  the  long  trail  behind 
the  dock.  It  is  difficult  to  be  reserved  under 
such  conditions.  Then,  too,  Caradoc  was  so 
obviously  ill,  Madden  felt  sorry  for  the  fellow. 

As  for  the  Englishman,  he  paid  little  attention 
to  his  working  mate,  but  languidly  splashed  the 
iron  wall,  and  himself,  with  red  paint.  After 
some  two  hours'  work,  he  stood  up  on  the  plat 
form  as  if  sore,  made  an  irresolute  start,  finally 
climbing  the  rope  ladder  to  the  top.  Madden 
wondered  about  the  queer  fellow,  but  was  rather 
relieved  by  his  absence.  Within  twenty  or  thirty 
minutes,  however,  he  was  back,  but  in  percepti 
bly  better  spirits.  He  worked  briskly  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  dropped  brush  in  pail  and  turned 
to  Leonard  as  if  no  shadow  had  crossed  their 
acquaintance. 

"  Well,  Madden,  we  can  hardly  blame  the  old 
Phoenicians  for  guarding  the  secret  of  the 
Cassiterides,  can  we?" 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  33 

The  American  almost  fell  off  the  platform  in 
surprise. 

"Why  —  er  —  no,  I  don't  blame  'em,"  he 
blurted,  not  having  a  ghost  of  a  notion  what 
the  Englishman  was  talking  about.  "  No,  I  —  I 
never  blamed  'em  a  bit  —  never  did." 

"  Those  were  poetic  days,  Madden." 

The  American  stared,  his  mind  as  much  at 
sea  as  his  body. 

"  Think  of  that  Phoenician  sailing  his  galley 
for  the  Isles  of  Tin.  The  Romans  follow  him, 
day  after  day,  week  after  week.  But  does  he 
betray  the  secret  of  Tyre's  wealth?"  Caradoc 
made  a  gesture.  Madden  was  about  to  answer 
that  he  didn't  know,  when  the  orator  went  on. 

"  He  does  not.  Rather  than  expose  the  rich 
mines  of  Cornwall,  he  dashes  his  galley  upon  a 
reef  and  risks  his  life  among  the  early  English 
barbarians." 

"Was  it  here  where  that  happened?"  asked 
Madden  interestedly,  fishing  some  such  tale  from 
the  bottom  of  his  recollection. 

Caradoc  stood  upright  on  the  swinging  plat 
form,  hands  thrust  in  jacket  pockets,  thumbs 
out,  Oxford  fashion.  His  tall  form  swayed 


34       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

slowly  with  the  steady  rise  and  fall  of  the  dock. 

"  Certainly,  the  Cassiterides  is  Cornwall,  and 
that  point  of  land  just  ahead  is  the  spot  where 
the  Tyrian  wrecked  his  ship,  so  the  legend  goes." 

Madden's  eyes  followed  Caradoc's  gesture. 
"  I've  read  that  story,  but  I  never  thought  of 
seeing  the  place." 

"  Cornwall  is  entrancing  if  you  care  for 
antiquities,"  went  on  Smith  in  the  polished  style 
of  a  collegiate.  "  Four  or  five  miles  up  that  cape 
are  the  Boskednan  Circles  and  the  Dawns-un, 
old  Druidic  stone  temples.  Just  across  the 
peninsula  is  St.  Ives,  where  the  virgin  Hya 
appeared  miraculously.  It  is  really  regrettable, 
Madden,  that  you  are  leaving  England  before 
you  tour  Cornwall.  A  wonderful  little  island, 
England.  A  land  to  live  for  —  or  to  die  for, 
God  willing." 

Caradoc  stared  toward  the  coast,  frowning, 
with  the  old  familiar  look  of  pain  coming  into 
his  eyes.  His  hearer  and  his  extemporaneous 
lecture  plainly  slipped  out  of  his  mind. 

"You've  been  along  here  before,"  suggested 
Madden  with  a  hope  of  diverting  Smith's  mind. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  Englishman  gloomily. 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  35 

"Sailor,  perhaps?" 

"Yes." 

"Not  another  dry  dock,  I  trust,"  laughed 
Madden,  turning  to  work. 

"  No." 

"Windjammer?" 

"  Yes." 

Leonard  nodded  at  his  painting.  "  Fishing 
smack,  Til  bet." 

The  cross-questioning  was  interrupted  by  a 
raucous  voice  overhead,  and  both  boys  looked 
up  to  see  the  mate's  thick  torso  hanging  over 
the  rail.  He  was  shaking  his  fist  at  the  tall 
Englishman. 

"  Wot  you  think  we  brought  you  along  for?  " 
he  bawled  savagely.  "  To  give  lectures?  If  you 
don't  paint  and  quit  blowin',  you  win'  bag,  I'll 
ship  you  at  Penzance !  " 

Caradoc's  face  went  white,  leaving  threadlike 
purple  veins  showing  on  nose  and  cheeks.  "  I'm 
willing  to  do  my  duty,"  he  said  with  a  quiver  in 
his  tone.  He  glanced  at  his  empty  paint  bucket, 
"  If  I'm  to  work,  bring  me  paint  —  I'm  out !  " 

Caradoc  seemed  to  be  able  to  make  the  mate 
madder  and  do  it  quicker  than  anyone  else. 


36       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  Paint !  Bring  you  paint !  "  roared  Malone, 
apoplectic.  "  Git  out  an'  git  your  paint,  or  I'll 
put  a  longer,  uglier  head  than  that  on  your 
shoulders." 

Caradoc  gave  a  shrug,  stooped  for  the  bucket, 
then  began  composedly  climbing  the  ladder 
straight  at  the  sputtering  officer. 

"  Be  careful  there,  Smith,"  warned  Madden 
in  an  undertone ;  "  he'd  as  soon  as  not  slug  you 
without  giving  you  a  dog's  chance." 

Caradoc  said  nothing  but  continued  his  climb 
ing.  The  men  on  the  platform  fore  and  aft 
ceased  work,  watching  the  mate  and  the  climb 
ing  man  intently.  The  silence  following  the 
usual  drone  of  conversation  was  noticeable. 

Caradoc  was  just  reaching  up  to  climb  into 
Malone,  when  at  that  moment  something  hap 
pened  that  drew  and  held  everybody's  attention. 

The  whole  face  of  the  sea  around  the  dock 
broke  into  a  sort  of  sputtering.  The  ocean 
seemed  to  boil.  To  his  astonishment,  Madden 
saw  the  commotion  was  caused  by  millions  of 
small  fishes  leaping  and  running  along  the 
surface. 

Cries  came  from  all  over  the  dock  at  once: 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  37 

"  Pilchards !  Pilchards  are  shoaling !  Pilchards 
are  shoaling ! " 

The  few  gulls  in  the  sky  now  seemed  to  mul 
tiply  and  settled  in  a  fluttering  cloud  to  strike 
such  easily  captured  food.  Among  the  press  of 
little  fish  leaped  cod,  hake,  dog  fish,  all  feasting 
on  the  annual  migration  of  the  pilchards.  The 
crew  on  the  dock  scrambled  up  and  over  the 
sides,  flung  down  boxes,  buckets,  anything  and 
scooped  the  fish  from  the  sea. 

The  diversion  saved  the  Englishman  from  any 
bellicose  intention  of  the  mate,  who  hurried  off 
to  take  a  hand  in  the  sport.  Madden  sat  on  his 
platform  watching  the  fun,  for  it  was  a  remark 
able  sight.  Caradoc  swung  around  on  the  ladder 
facing  Leonard. 

"  There,  Madden,"  he  cried,  "  is  a  sight  char 
acteristic  of  no  other  sea.  Every  season  Cornish 
fisheries  capture  millions  of  these  fish.  They 
pickle  'em,  can  'em.  They  even  sell  them  to  you 
Yankees  for  sardines.  You  are  fortunate  to 
have  seen  this  phenomenon." 

Leonard  studied  the  novel  sight.  Hundreds 
of  fishing  smacks  converged  on  the  area  where 
the  pilchards  were  breaking,  their  red  sails  glow- 


38       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

ing  warmly  against  the  green  of  the  land  and 
the  blue  of  the  sea.  Gulls  whirled  about  the  tall 
dock,  filling  the  air  with  thin  creakings.  Mad 
den  admired  the  sudden  picturesque  activity. 
Some  of  the  smacks  were  so  close  now  that  he 
could  see  their  long  trawls  stringing  out  behind, 
and  little  figures  running  about  their  decks, 
winding  in  nets,  bringing  in  a  flood  of  silver 
fishes. 

The  metallic  noise  of  the  gulls  grew  so  loud 
as  to  blanket  all  else.  In  the  midst  of  this  flut 
tering  and  shrieking,  Leonard  heard  the  shout 
ing  of  human  voices.  He  paid  little  attention. 
Then  some  of  the  men  on  top  of  the  dock's  side 
began  yelling.  At  that  moment,  Caradoc  shouted 
down  Madden's  name.  Madden  looked  up.  On 
the  instant  the  swinging  platform  under  him 
tipped  violently. 

Next  moment,  Madden  saw  right  beneath  him 
a  smack.  The  vessel  was  floating  by,  and  the 
peak  of  its  boom  scraped  the  high  iron  wall  of 
the  dock.  This  boom  had  struck  his  platform. 

Madden  clutched  impotently  at  the  blank  iron 
wall,  then  flung  an  arm  for  one  of  the  support 
ing  ropes  and  missed. 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  39 

"Jump  to  me!"  yelled  Smith.  The  Eng 
lishman  was  still  on  the  rope  ladder,  but  had 
climbed  down  rapidly  when  he  saw  his  mate  in 
distress.  The  boom  was  tilting  the  platform 
straight  up  and  down.  The  deck  of  the  smack 
below  promised  to  mash  the  American  into  a 
pulp.  The  fishermen  were  shouting.  Leonard 
made  a  falling  leap  toward  Caradoc's  extended 
hand.  He  caught  it  in  both  his  own.  The  Eng 
lishman's  other  hand  gripped  the  rope  rung. 
Unfortunately  Madden's  body  flung  out  with  a 
twisting  motion,  and  he  could  feel  Smith's 
arm  grow  tense  in  an  effort  to  keep  from  being 
wrenched. 

Madden  was  scrambling  with  his  legs  for  a 
foothold  on  the  ladder  when  the  boom  dragged 
past  the  platform  and  the  whole  thing  swung 
back  on  the  distressed  boys.  A  flying  end 
caught  Madden  in  the  side.  The  blow  sickened 
him.  He  clung  desperately  to  Caradoc's  hand, 
his  grip  weakening,  his  senses  swimming  with 
the  feeling  of  an  awful  void  beneath  him.  The 
strength  in  his  fingers  gave  way,  and  he  felt  a 
chill  sensation  before  the  coming  downward 
plunge.  But  even  in  his  twisted,  straining  posi- 


40        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

tion,  the  Englishman's  long  fingers  did  not  loose 
Madden's  wrist.  A  moment  later,  Leonard 
had  lost  consciousness  completely,  swung  in 
midair,  limp  as  a  bag. 

The  American  had  a  dim  impression  of  being 
drawn  to  the  top  of  the  side  wall,  and  the  crew 
clustering  about  him.  Someone  splashed  water 
in  his  face  and  the  world  cleared  up  before  his 
eyes.  The  young  fellow  called  Greer  was  whisk 
ing  on  the  water,  but  when  Madden  opened  his 
eyes,  he  set  the  bucket  down  and  returned 
silently  to  his  \vork. 

"There,  ye're  bether  now,"  grinned  Hogan 
stooping  over  the  wounded  man.  "That  plat 
form  caught  yez  a  little  love  lick  in  the  slats  — 
break  any  of  'em?  " 

Leonard  reached  across  and  felt  his  side. 
"How  came  the  smack  there?"  he  inquired 
weakly.  "  Why  didn't  I  see  it  ?" 

"Ye  was  lookin'  astern,  an'  th'  vissil  barely 
turned  the  bow  of  th'  dock  an'  her  boom  kissed 
us  all  th'  way  down.  I  yilled  at  ye,  so  did  Dash- 
along  an'  th'  silent  man.  Thin  I  got  so  inter 
ested  in  1'arnin'  he  could  say  a  worrd,  I  quit 
lookin'  at  you  complately." 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  41 

"I  couldn't  hear  for  the  gulls  — I'll  be  all 
right  in  a  minute." 

Leonard  looked  around  and  saw  Caradoc  mas 
saging  his  twisted  arm.  He  had  an  impulse  to 
thank  the  Briton,  but  he  changed  it  to,  "  I  hope 
your  arm  isn't  badly  wrenched,  Smith." 

"Quite  all  right,"  assured  the  tall  fellow 
cheerfully. 

The  men  began  to  scatter  to  work  again. 

That  day  at  lunch  the  ship's  fare  was  gar 
nished  with  an  abundance  of  delicious  pilchards. 
The  whole  crew  wore  a  holiday  air.  During 
the  afternoon  the  men  sang  at  their  work  and 
labored  so  merrily  and  so  well  that  a  broad  wash 
of  paint  was  added  to  the  outside  wall. 

Leonard,  whose  side  was  sore  enough  from 
the  thump,  did  not  work.  Even  the  mate  sug 
gested  that  he  take  a  leave  of  absence,  and  stay 
in  his  bunk  if  he  would. 

The  boy  went  at  once  to  his  cabin  and  began 
hunting  in  his  suit  case  for  a  little  medicine 
chest  which  he  always  carried.  He  wanted 
arnica  for  his  bruised  side.  To  his  surprise  he 
could  not  find  it.  He  gave  his  bag  a  thorough 
search,  tumbling  garments,  trinkets,  souvenirs, 


42        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

curiosities,  belter  skelter  over  his  bunk,  but 
failed  to  find  his  case. 

The  loss  of  the  medical  carry-all  distressed 
Madden.  It  had  proved  useful  in  the  past. 
However,  he  hunted  up  the  mate  and  begged  a 
liniment,  which  must  have  had  a  wonderful 
virtue  if  a  powerful  odor  was  any  indication. 

Leonard  rubbed  the  stuff  on  his  side  and 
turned  into  his  bunk.  His  side  grew  so  sore  he 
wondered  whether  or  not  his  ribs  really  were 
broken  after  all.  In  his  dark  den  he  could  still 
hear  the  gulls  wailing,  although  the  tug  had 
passed  the  major  portion  of  the  shoaling  pil 
chards.  There  also  came  to  him  the  constant 
creaking  of  the  dock,  the  slow  dull  recurrence 
of  the  ground  swell  against  her  bow.  The  boy's 
mind  centered  fretfully  on  his  lost  medicine 
chest.  No  doubt  it  was  stolen,  and  he  began 
wondering  which  of  the  crew  had  taken  it.  His 
suspicion  played  idly  over  the  crew,  and  then 
settled  on  the  youth  called  Greer.  His  reason 
for  this  was  that  Greer  said  very  little.  Mad 
den  thought  this  must  be  the  sign  of  a  guilty 
conscience. 

He  did  not  brood  long,  however,  as  the  mono- 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  43 

tonous  sounds  exerted  a  hypnotic  effect  on  his 
senses.  Once  or  twice  as  he  was  almost  falling 
asleep,  he  felt  himself  clinging  desperately  to 
Caradoc's  hand,  his  grip  weakening,  the  fear 
some  void  gaping  under  him,  then  he  would 
awake  with  a  start  that  sent  a  knife  of  pain 
through  his  bruised  ribs.  After  that  he  would 
be  forced  to  feel  once  more  to  test  his  costal 
region  for  broken  bones.  Finally  the  vision 
failed  to  paint  itself,  or  did  not  rouse  him,  and 
he  slept. 

After  an  indeterminate  interval,  he  was 
awakened  by  someone  entering  the  room.  It 
was  fairly  dark  now  and  by  lifting  a  head 
over  the  side  of  his  berth,  he  saw  the  outline  of 
the  Frenchman  standing  by  the  door.  Madden 
thought  of  the  stolen  medicine  chest  and 
remained  silent. 

The  Gaul  was  about  to  withdraw  when  Mad 
den  called  out. 

".What  is  it,  Deschaillon?  " 

"  I  just  came  by  to  say  your  frien'  ees  in 
trouble.  Zay  play  cards  in  zee  salon.  Smeeth 
he  win  beaucoup.  Zay  quarrel,  perhaps  zay 
fight.  He  ees  your  frien',  and " 


44       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Leonard  smiled  when  he  heard  the  mess  hall 
dignified  into  a  salon;  but  at  the  latter  end  of 
the  sentence  he  sat  up  suddenly  in  his  bunk  and 
began  pulling  on  his  jacket  despite  the  twinges 
in  his  side. 

"Eh,  how's  that  — fight?" 

At  that  instant  Hogan  lolled  against  the  jamb 
and  announced  his  entrance  with  a  laugh. 

"What's  this  Deschaillon's  telling  me,  Mike 
—  the  men  fighting  over  cards?" 

"  Sure  now  I  heard  him  and  told  him  not  to 
be  wakin'  a  sick  man  up  for  sich  trifles.  They 
was  a  few  raymarks  ixchanged,  but  nawthin' 
ser'us."  He  turned  reproachfully  on  the  Gaul. 
"  Nixt  time  be  advised  by  me  and  don't  be 
wakin'  a  sick  man  for  nawthin'." 

The  two  walked  away  and  Leonard  leaned 
back  in  his  bunk,  quite  sleepless  now.  He  stared 
into  the  blackness,  his  mind  a  moving  picture 
show  of  the  last  three  days.  The  Englishman 
was  chief  actor  on  this  stage,  and  his  disagree 
ably  mixed  character  puzzled  and  disturbed  the 
American.  Caradoc's  language  and  manners 
showed  him  to  be  a  man  of  breeding,  but  he 
was  full  of  contradictory  habits.  His  uncos- 


'ADVENTURE  BEGINS  45 

mopolitan  moodiness,  his  vulgar  quarreling 
over  cards,  were  typical  instances. 

Leonard  almost  regretted  that  he  had  formed 
an  uncomfortable  intimacy  with  the  fellow,  but 
he  could  not  very  well  break  it  off  now  since 
Smith  had  saved  him  from  a  fall  that  might 
easily  have  proved  fatal. 

Just  then  the  Englishman  entered  the  cabin 
silently.  He  lighted  the  bracket  lamp  quietly 
and  looked  about  to  satisfy  himself  that  his 
mate  was  asleep.  Later  Madden  heard  him 
open  his  big  kit  bag  and  take  something  out.  A 
moment  after,  the  odor  of  alcohol  scented  the 
little  cabin. 

Leonard  lifted  his  head  and  saw  the  fellow 
under  the  lamp,  just  lifting  the  silver  cap  to  his 
lips.  A  disagreeable  smile  moulded  the  long 
face,  wrinkled  the  nostrils  and  slid  away  under 
the  choppy  blond  mustache.  The  strong  light 
from  the  overhead  lamp  brought  out  an  almost 
sinister  countenance. 

The  thought  that  such  a  man  had  probably 
saved  his  life  filled  Madden  with  a  kind  of 
repulsion.  He  turned  in  his  bunk  with  a  little 
disgusted  grunt. 


46        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Caradoc  dropped  the  little  cap  and  came  to  the 
bunk. 

"  Side  hurt,  old  man?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"Yes  —  no  —  nothing  the  matter." 

"  Oh,  maybe  you  don't  like  this  odor  —  forgot 
you  didn't  drink."  He  stepped  quickly  to  the  kit 
bag,  replaced  the  bottle  and  cap  inside  and  closed 
it.  Like  many  alcohol  users  he  labored  under 
the  delusion  that  alcohol  was  not  offensive  on 
his  breath. 

"  Nervous  shock  you  received  seemed  to  upset 
you  more  than  the  punch,"  he  diagnosed  in  a 
concerned  voice.  "  You  Americans  are  a  high- 
strung  nation."  He  paused  a  moment  philoso 
phically.  "  I  daresay  you're  right  about  not 
drinking  spirits.  With  your  nervous  organism, 
it  would  set  you  on  fire.  But  our  foggy  Eng 
lish  climate  and  stodgy  people  call  for  it.  Sets 
our  pulses  going.  A  thought  just  here  —  Cli 
mate  and  Alcoholism.  Not  a  bad  subject  for  a 
scientific  investigation,  is  it?" 

Madden  grunted. 

"  I'll  blow  out  the  light  unless  you'll  have  me 
rub  some  more  of  that  villainous  stuff  on  your 
ribs?" 


ADVENTURE  BEGINS  47 

The  patient  declined  this. 
"  Need  water  or  medicine  during  the  night 
throw  your  boots  at  me  —  I'm  hard  to  wake," 
Then  he  puffed  out  the  light, 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN 

A  temporary  rudder  had  been  installed  on  the 
unwieldy  dry  dock,  and  each  twenty-four  hours 
Mate  Malone  detailed  seven  men  to  stand  watch, 
which  gave  the  regulation  dog  watch,  although 
there  was  no  need  of  it  with  a  double  comple 
ment  of  men.  Thanks  to  his  bruised  ribs,  the 
American  had  thus  far  escaped  duty  at  the 
wheel.  About  a  week  after  the  pilchard  inci 
dent,  he  reported  ready  for  this  service,  when  a 
twist  of  circumstance  rendered  it  unnecessary. 

A  long  stretch  of  fair  weather  had  been 
enjoyed  by  the  dock  painters  on  a  steadily  drop 
ping  barometer.  On  this  particular  day  a  cold 
puffy  wind  developed  out  of  the  northeast, 
bringing  with  it  a  rack  of  clouds  and  spreading 
a  choppy  sea  below. 

From  where  Madden  painted  on  the  corner  of 
the  dock,  he  had  a  good  view  of  these  chasing 

48 


Out  there   lay   adventure,   mystery — more   than   either   dreamed. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       49 

waves  that  rdse  a  moment  in  tKe  gray  seascape, 
nodded  a  white  cap,  then  dropped  back  into  the 
waste  of  water. 

"  Wonder  if  a  storm  would  affect  this  old  box 
much?"  he  queried  of  Caradoc. 

"Probably  have  a  chance  to  see/'  opined 
Smith,  looking  out  with  a  speculative  eye.  "  By 
the  by,  what's  that?" 

Caradoc  pointed  toward  the  Vulcan,  which 
already  exhibited  the  motion  of  the  rollers. 

Madden  looked.  A  sailor  stood  on  the  tug's 
round  stern  waving  two  flags  toward  the  dock. 

The  American  arose  from  his  work,  funneled 
his  hands  before  his  lips  and  called  to  the  man, 
but  the  spitting  wind  whisked  away  his  words, 
and  the  sailor  went  on  with  his  flag. 

Madden  regarded  it  attentively  a  few 
moments.  "  He's  wig-wagging  —  wants  to  speak 
to  the  mate.  I'll  go  for  him."  He  trotted  aft. 

Leonard  found  the  officer  in  his  cabin  and 
told  his  mission.  The  mate  arose  at  once  and 
came  out  with  the  lad.  "  Don't  know  w'ot  'e 
wants,  do  you?  "  he  inquired. 

"I  only  spelled  his  message  till  I  found  he 
wanted  you." 


50       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  Huh  —  understand  flag  signals,  do  ye  ?  " 
grunted  Malone,  shifting  his  inflamed  eyes  to 
Madden's  face. 

"  Learned  it  in  my  engineering  course," 
explained  the  lad. 

The  two  passed  on  to  the  bow,  when  the  sailor 
on  the  tug  starting  waving  once  more.  Mate 
Malone  watched  the  man  until  he  had  finished 
spelling  out  the  message,  then  he  turned  to 
Leonard  and  asked: 

"Know  w'ot  'e  said?" 

"  Parker's  sick  and  they  need  you,"  translated 
the  American. 

"  Good,"  grinned  the  mate  with  more  fellow 
ship  than  he  had  ever  shown  before.  "  Now, 
lookee  here,  young  chap.  They're  going  to  send 
a  cutter  for  me  to  come  and  take  Parker's  place. 
You  strike  me  as  a  decent  sort,  so  Til  leave  you 
in  my  berth  till  I  get  back.  You  won't  have 
nothin'  to  do  hexcept  tell  off  th'  watches  an' 
keep  th'  boys  paintin',  Softer'n  your  fo'cs'l  job, 
though  you  won't  git  no  hextra  pay  —  wot  about 
it?" 

"  That  goes  with  me,"  agreed  Madden  readily. 

"  All  right,  you  signal  me  about  anything  you 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       51 
don't  understand.     Make  the  men  step  lively, 

,    • 

same  as  if  you  was  me." 

By  this  time  the  tug  had  slowed  down  a  trifle 
and  a  boat  put  out  from  her.  While  it  came 
bobbing  over  the  water,  Malone  bawled  his  men 
together  and  briefly  explained  his  transfer  of 
authority. 

"  Be  back  jest  as  soon  as  Parker's  all  right," 
he  said  as  he  climbed  from  dock  to  dancing  boat 
below.  "And,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Madden,  you 
will  bunk  in  my  cabin." 

That  "  Mister  Madden  "  from  the  mate  was 
the  great  seal  of  authority.  The  men  looked  at 
him  with  new  eyes. 

Somehow,  Malone's  confidence  pleased  Mad 
den.  That  uncouth,  bullet-headed  officer  had 
not  spent  his  whole  life  on  the  high  seas,  bela 
boring  all  classes  of  men  into  serviceableness, 
without  being  able  to  judge  the  genus  homo 
pretty  shrewdly. 

The  navvies  accepted  the  new  officer  in  stolid 
submission,  but  Hogan  clapped  his  hands. 
"Hey,  a  spache  fr-rom  th'  new  boss!"  he 
grinned. 

Leonard  laughed.    "  My  speech  is  to  get  back 


52       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

to  work,  and  I'll  do  the  same,"  said  the  boy, 
returning  to  his  bucket. 

This  appealed  to  the  cockneys,  who  gave  a 
dull  English  cheer,  and  then  everybody  settled 
back  to  their  tasks  once  more. 

"  What's  the  use  in  your  painting,  Madden?  " 
asked  Caradoc,  "  You  don't  have  to." 

Leonard  was  amused,  "They  tell  me  a  chap 
whose  work  is  no  bigger  than  his  contract,  never 
gets  a  contract  for  bigger  work." 

"What's  that?"  frowned  Smith.  "That 
sounds  like  Yankee  smartness  to  me  —  seems  to 
make  a  great  deal  more  sense  than  it  really 
does." 

"Anyway,  I  don't  want  to  rat  on  you  fel 
lows,  just  because  Malone  left  me  in  charge  for 
a  day  or  so." 

Caradoc  made  no  answer,  but  stared  after 
the  rowboat  which  was  just  rounding  into  the 
tug.  "If  I'd  played  up  to  that  officer  a  bit," 
he  smiled  dourly,  "  I  could  have  had  the  mate's 
berth,  Madden." 

The  American  glanced  up.  The  Englishman's 
smile  recalled  the  look  Leonard  had  seen  under 
the  bracket  lamp. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       53 

"  Well,  there's  very  little  in  it  for  anyone,  I'm 
thinking." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  Smith  shrugged  a 
broad  shoulder  and  the  subject  was  dismissed. 

The  blustery  weather  increased  steadily,  and 
by  lunch  time  the  wind  was  blowing  half  a  gale. 
Regiments  of  waves  marched  against  the  dock 
and  snapped  spray  high  up  the  red  sides.  Their 
constant  blows  rang  through  the  big  iron  struc 
ture.  A  feeling  of  security  came  to  Madden  as 
he  saw  the  gray-green  waves  break  white,  and 
yet  not  shake  the  huge  barge  sufficiently  to  tip 
the  paint  from  the  men's  buckets.  Certainly  the 
dock  was  monstrous. 

The  sea  grew  rougher  as  evening  wore  on  and 
finally  the  boy  went  to  the  mate's  cabin  to  pick 
out  his  men  for  the  night's  work.  After  his 
own  cramped  quarters,  Malone's  room  proved 
delightful.  Three  glass  ports  admitted  light.  A 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room  spread  over  with 
a  Mercator's  projection  showed  that  Malone 
dutifully  pricked  the  Vulcan's  course  on  the 
chart,  although  it  was  not  required  of  him.  A 
sextant  and  quadrant  told  the  American  that  the 
stolid  Briton  worked  out  his  own  reckonings. 


54        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  sight  of  these  things  filled  the  boy  with  a 
respect  for  the  uncouth  fellow.  He  understood 
how  doggedly  Malone  must  have  labored  to 
acquire  mastery  over  the  instruments  of  navi 
gation.  Beyond  this  there  were  a  number  of 
flaring  chromos  on  the  walls,  a  decanter  of  wine 
and  glasses  in  a  chest.  He  found  what  he  was 
looking  for  in  the  desk  drawer,  a  roll  of  men 
checked  off  for  watches.  The  coming  night  was 
arranged  for,  but  for  morning,  the  names  of 
Heck  Mulcher,  Bfcn  Galton  and  Caradoc  Smith 
stood  in  order.  Madden  was  just  marking  these 
men  when  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door. 

Upon  call,  Gaskin,  the  cook,  entered,  bearing 
a  big  tray  of  dishes,  "  Yer  dinner,  sir,"  he  said, 
very  respectfully. 

Madden  had  not  anticipated  having  the  mate's 
meals  served  to  him,  and  for  a  moment  he  came 
near  asking  the  cook  if  he  had  not  made  a  mis 
take;  but  the  steaming  tray  and  the  pleasant 
odors  kept  the  question  unspoken.  Only  with 
this  diet  before  him  did  he  realize  that  he  had 
been  fairly  starving  on  the  poor  ship's  rations. 

When  Gaskin  placed  the  soup  on  the  table, 
Madden  became  aware  that  the  dock  was  rolling 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       55 

I 

rather  heavily,  for  the  liquid  spilled  over  the 
side  of  the  plate,  while  dishes  and  tureens  went 
coasting  up  and  down  the  boards, 

"  Getting  rough  outside/*  remarked  the  lad 
to  the  servant,  who  was  lighting  a  lamp. 

"A  bit  'eavier,  sir,"  replied  Gaskin  self 
effacingly. 

Madden  held  the  soup  plate  in  his  hand  for 
steadiness,  and  sipped  the  hot,  satisfying  liquid 
while  the  great  dock  rose  and  fell.  The  fact 
that  he  was  really  in  command  of  the  vast  iron 
fabric  put  the  American  in  a  serious  humor.  He 
ate  dinner  slowly,  listening  to  the  heavy  clang  of 
the  waves  against  the  iron  hull,  and  to  the  wftid 
whining  and  sobbing  over  the  great  metal  sides. 

When  he  had  finished  his  meal,  the  youth 
arose  with  the  intention  of  going  to  the  sailors' 
mess  house  to  see  about  the  watches.  He  had 
no  sooner  stuck  his  head  out  of  the  door,  how 
ever,  than  a  whisk  of  spray  leaped  at  him  out  of 
the  darkness  and  drove  him  inside.  He  was 
preparing  to  venture  out  again,  when  Gaskin 
opened  a  locker  and  brought  out  an  oilskin. 

"  Hit'll  'elp  you  keep  dry,  sir,"  holding  up  the 
garment. 


56       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Swathed  in  its  folds,  Madden  made  a  new 
start  and  walked  out  on  the  heaving,  shifting 
pontoon. 

Outside  a  renewed  noise  smote  his  ears.  The 
air  was  full  of  flying  spume  that  whipped  in 
through  the  stern  of  the  dock.  Malone  had 
planked  up  this  open  gateway  to  a  height  of 
thirty  feet,  which  made  it  forty-two  feet  above 
the  salt  water  line,  but  the  spray  already  leaped 
this  barrier  and  pelted  throughout  the  dark 
heavy  iron  canyon. 

The  dock  was  made  in  three  huge  sections,  in 
order  that  it  might  be  self-docking  when  fouled. 
Now  in  the  darkness,  the  groaning  of  these 
joints  smote  the  blustering  gale  in  a  sort  of  vast 
distress.  The  many  iron  stanchions  for  the 
shoring  of  vessels  began  thrumming  a  devil's 
tattoo  against  the  high  iron  walls,  like  a  myriad 
giant  fingers. 

In  the  corners  of  the  bow  pontoon,  Madden 
could  see  the  signal  lights  heaving  and  dropping 
with  the  motion  of  the  vast  fabric.  Now  and 
then  He  caught  a  glimmer  of  the  tug's  light,  and 
its  erratic  motions  told  how  the  staunch  little 
vessel  fared. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       57 

There  was  a  faint  radiance  around  tKe  shut 
door  of  the  mess  hall,  and  Madden  walked 
toward  it  rather  unsteadily,  with  the  spumy 
brine  dashing  into  his  face. 

A  signal  lantern  was  attached  to  one  of  the 
shoring  stanchions  near  the  mess  hall,  and  as 
Madden  moved  into  its  dull  glow,  another 
bundled  form  entered  from  the  other  side.  The 
figure  stopped  and  saluted. 

"  If  you  please,  sor,"  he  bawled  in  Madden's 
ear,  "  th'  nixt  watch  is  sick." 

"Sick!  The  whole  watch  sick?  What  do 
you  mean,  Mike?  " 

The  Irishman  grinned  in  the  dim  light,  "  Yis, 
sor,  they're  in  their  bunks  wishin'  to  die. 
They've  niver  been  in  a  blow  before.  It's  say^ 
sick  they  ar-re." 

Both  men  were  holding  to  the  stanchion. 

"  Seasick!  "  ejaculated  Madden.  "  How  about 
Heck  Mulcher  and  Ben  Galton?  "  he  recalled  the 
names  on  the  list. 

"  The  whole  sit  of  navvies,  sor,  ar-re  down  on 
their  backs,  not  carin'  at  all,  at  all,  whether  we 
float,  sink,  swim,  or  go  to  Davy  Jones'  locker." 

"  Well,  Caradoc's  next  —  come  with  me." 


58        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

They  took  hold  of  each  other  and  went  sliding 
and  slipping  along  the  iron  deck,  now  skating 
doWn  hill,  now  climbing  a  sharp  tilt,  shoulders 
hunched  against  the  gusty  spume,  until  they 
reached  Smith's  little  cabin  past  the  mess  hall. 
Here  they  paused  and  rapped  on  the  door.  As 
this  could  not  have  been  heard  inside  for  the 
wind  and  the  waves  and  the  groaning  of  the 
dock,  they  pushed  open  the  shutter. 

Madden  no  sooner  entered  than  his  nostrils 
caught  a  pervading  odor  of  alcohol.  The  Eng 
lishman's  lorig  figure  lounged  fully  dressed  on 
a  bunk;  a  demijohn  was  jammed  behind  his  kit 
bag  to  keep  it  from  rolling. 

"Smith!"  called  Madden,  "I'll  have  to  ask 
you  to  stand  watch  to-night;  nearly  all  the  nav 
vies  are  sick." 

Caradoc  lifted  his  head  from  the  bunk  and 
blinked  at  the  two  men  in  the  door.  "  What?  " 
he  asked  vacantly. 

"You're  to  stand  watch  to-night,"  Madden 
raised  his  voice. 

"  Stand  watch !  "  cried  the  Englishman,  sitting 
up,  his  face  flushing  darkly  under  the  bracket 
lamp.  "You  have  turned  master,  haven't  you 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       59 

—  bootlicker   ordering    me    to    stand    watch ! " 

"  It's  your  turn  on  the  list ! "  commanded 
Madden  brusquely,  with  ill-concealed  disgust 
that  Smith  should  be  maudlin  just  when  needed. 

"  My  turn  —  Bah !  I'd  have  been  mate  myself 
if  I  had  toadied  and  flattered  that  upstart 
Malone  as  you  did !  "  He  laughed  sarcastically. 
"  Then  I  could  have  had  decent  dinners,  been 
wearing  the  mate's  sou'wester,  been " 

"  Cut  it  out ! J>  snapped  Madden.  "  Will  you 
do  your  duty  or  not?  J> 

The  dock  gave  a  great  lurch  that  flattened 
both  men  against  the  door,  juggled  Caradoc  in 
his  berth  and  sent  kit  bag  and  demijohn  sliding 
toward  the  visitors. 

"Not!"  bawled  Smith.  "I,  Caradoc  Smith- 
Wentworth,  can't  think  of  going  to  stand  watch 
for  a  gang  of  siz-seasick  navvies  an'  a  t-toady 
American  Yankee  —  Not !  "  he  reiterated  and 
laughed  in  tipsy  irony. 

A  flush  of  anger  went  over  Madden.  He 
reached  down  suddenly  and  caught  up  the 
demijohn. 

"You  —  you  bet'  not  drink  th-that,  y-you 
little  bossy  Yankee;  it-it'll  m-make  you  d-drunk." 


60        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"You  sot!"  trembled  Madden.  "Whiskey 
will  not  be  your  excuse  next  time ! "  He  caught 
the  Irishman's  arm,  "Come  on!"  And  before 
Smith  realized  what  had  happened,  the  two  men 
and  his  liquor  were  out  of  the  door  and  gone. 

Madden  slammed  the  shutter  viciously,  and 
the  tilt  of  a  wave  helped  give  it  a  loud  bang. 
Then  he  gave  the  jug  a  wrathful  swing  and 
smashed  it  against  the  nearest  stanchion. 

"  Smith'll  have  some  sense  when  he  can't  get 
any  more,"  he  shouted  in  Hogan's  ear.  Then 
after  a  moment,  "  Is  there  nobody  else  to  take 
the  watch?" 

"There's  Dashalong,  sir,"  bellowed  Mike, 
"  but  he  stood  last  night." 

"  How  about  you?  "  inquired  Leonard. 

"All  roight."  The  Celt  was  about  to  turn 
for  the  high  bridge  at  the  stern,  when  Madden 
stopped  him. 

"  When  was  your  last  watch,  Mike£  " 

"This  afternoon,  sor." 

"When  did  Greer  stand  watch?" 

"  He's  niver  told  anywan,  sor ;  I  think  it  must 
be  a  saycret." 

"Get  to  your  cabin  and  turn  in,"  directed 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       61 

Madden.  "  I'll  take  it  myself  till  midnight,  eight 
bells.  Then  send  Greer." 

Hogan  saluted  in  the  darkness  and  turned 
about  for  his  cabin.  Madden  began  a  careful 
journey  aft  toward  the  wheel. 

He  fought  his  way  to  the  ladder  and  climbed 
up  into  the  night,  sometimes  clinging  like  a  fly 
to  the  underside  of  the  reeling  wall,  sometimes 
going  up  a  steep  slant.  Gusts  of  spume  and 
foam  whipped  him  all  the  way  up.  Once  on  top 
of  the  wall,  he  clung  to  the  inside  rail  and  began 
pulling  himself  carefully  around  toward  the  rear 
bridge.  At  this  height  the  full  force  of  the  wind 
almost  tore  him  from  his  reeling  anchorage.  At 
last  he  turned  onto  the  bridge  and  moved  toward 
the  binnacle  light. 

"  You'll  find  'er  a  little  'ard,  sir,"  remarked 
the  steersman  as  he  turned  over  the  wheel  to 
Madden.  "  Good  night,  sir." 

"  Good  night,"  returned  the  American,  and 
he  watched  the  fellow's  form  disappear  in  the 
darkness. 

Madden  gripped  the  spokes  of  the  wheel  and 
fell  to  watching  the  signal  light  in  the  center  of 
the  forward  bridge  and  the  stern  lantern  of  the 


62        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

distant  tug.     These  two  plunging  spots  in  the 
black  void  of  night  he  must  keep  aligned. 

The  enormous  dock  leaped  and  shivered  under 
his  feet.  Huge  waves  roared  by,  of  such  vast- 
ness  that  Madden  could  hear  their  crests  crash 
ing  and  thundering  high  above  the  level  of  the 
bridge.  These  moving  mountains  shook  tons  of 
black  water  into  dim,  ghostlike  spray,  and  sent 
it  hissing  down  into  cavernous  troughs.  The 
weight  of  the  wind-swept  spume  flashing  out  of 
darkness  through  the  binnacle  light  almost  took 
the  boy  off  his  feet.  It  pounded  his  oilskin, 
stung  his  face.  The  enormous  iron  dock  groaned 
and  clanged  under  the  mad  bastinado.  The  long 
arms  of  the  shoring  stanchions  smote  the  walls 
in  a  kind  of  terrific  anvil  chorus  to  the  blaring 
orchestra  of  the  tempest.  The  joints  of  the 
three  huge  pontoons  sounded  as  if  they  were 
being  rent  asunder  every  moment.  One  minute 
the  great  structure  would  rise  dizzily,  high  into 
the  black  blast,  a  skyscraper  flung  up  on  a  moun 
tain;  Madden  could  look  far  below  on  the  lights 
of  the  struggling  Vulcan.  Up  there  the  storm 
yelled  and  screamed  at  every  corner  and  brace 
of  the  weltering  dock,  and  wrenched  at  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       63 

midget  helmsman.  Then  came  the  sickening 
drop,  down,  down,  down,  into  the  profound,  and 
the  Vulcan  would  swing  far  above  her  towering 
consort.  For  the  instant  the  storm  would  be 
blanketed  by  the  prodigious  waves.  Wild,  form 
less  ghosts  of  foam  would  stretch  wide  arms 
about  the  falling  dock  as  if  they  were  clasping 
it  into  the  lowest  crypts  of  the  dead,  and  the 
night  would  be  filled  with  a  vast  and  dreadful 
whispering. 

For  hours  it  seemed  that  every  ascent,  every 
descent,  must  mark  the  end.  But  the  storm  was 
so  terrific,  Madden's  sense  of  personal  fear  was 
blotted  out  in  the  tremendous  conflict  about  him. 
Indeed,  there  was  something  deeply  moving, 
almost  gratifying  in  this  elemental  rage.  Then 
he  discovered  that  he  was  taking  a  part  in  it. 
Mechanically  he  had  been  straining  and  pulling 
at  the  wheel  to  hold  those  signal  lights  in  line. 
Now  he  realized  that  his  tiny  human  force 
formed  a  third  contender  in  this  vast  battle. 
As  he  eased  the  great  dock  down  the  rushing 
sheer  of  a  wave  so  the  shock  would  not  break 
the  straining  cable,  he  had  won  a  point  over 
two  violent  antagonists.  His  puny  arm,  that 


64        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

could  raise  perhaps  two  hundred  pounds,  was 
lifted  against  enemies  that  could  fling  about  bil 
lions  of  tons.  Without  his  force,  tug  and  dock 
would  part  company  instantly.  Each  watery 
mountain  that  he  climbed,  each  gulf  that  he 
fathomed,  was  a  victory  over  infinite  odds. 

However,  if  the  man  worked  with  subtlety, 
the  sea  likewise  worked  with  subtlety.  As  the 
long  hours  of  Madden's  watch  roared  by,  one 
thing  was  borne  in  on  the  youth:  the  rudder 
gradually  was  becoming  harder  to  manage.  Mad 
den  thought  this  was  caused  by  the  rising  storm 
and  strained  more  rigidly  against  the  wheel. 

Then,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  vigil,  an  odd 
thing  happened.  A  blast  of  spray  struck  Mad 
den  with  some  slimy  thing  that  whipped  about 
his  neck  and  chest  and  almost  tore  him  from 
the  wheel.  With  convulsive  repugnance,  he 
jerked  it  loose  and  held  the  clammy  stuff  toward 
the  binnacle  light.  He  saw  it  was  seaweed. 
Presently  more  strands  came  beating  down  on 
the  spume  to  sting  him. 

The  youth  was  crouching  in  his  oilskins  for 
protection,  when  he  was  surprised  by  a  hand 
laid  on  his  arm.  He  looked  around  and  saw  it 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       65 

was  Deschaillon  and  the  silent  Farnol  Greer. 

"Eet  makes  bad  weather,"  remarked  the 
Frenchman,  peering  at  the  dark  rolling  Alps 
about  the  dock. 

"Good  thing  both  of  you  came,"  shouted 
Madden,  turning  the  tiller  over  to  the  men. 
"It's  as  stiff  as  cold  molasses  —  how  are  the 
sick  ones?" 

The  boy  saw  Deschaillon  grin  and  twirl  his 
pointed  mustache  in  the  faint  illumination. 
"  Zay  are  very  numerous,"  he  laughed.  But  the 
Gaul  had  no  sooner  swung  his  weight  against 
the  wheel  than  his  grimace  vanished. 

"Parbleu!  Here,  Greer,  pull  zis  wheel  with 
me!" 

The  two  men  caught  the  spokes  and  set  their 
weight  to  it.  Greer  remained  silent. 

"  Zis  ees  bad !  "  exclaimed  Deschaillon.  "  Zis 
wheel  will  not  go  around ! " 

"What's  the  matter,  do  you  think?"  cried 
Leonard. 

"  Zee  gear  ees  clogged,  I  think  me." 

"  Go  get  a  lantern  and  some  men,  Hogan  — 
anybody  who  isn't  lifeless.  We've  got  to  do 
something! " 


66        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  Frenchman  obeyed,  hurrying  off  into  the 
darkness.  Leonard  resumed  his  place  at  the 

wheel  with  Greer  to  aid  him.     But  both  men 

*& 
could  not  swing  the  big  dock  around.    The  tiller 

was  growing  utterly  unmanageable.  Nearly 
every  dash  of  foam  brought  with  it  biting  bits 
of  seaweed  now.  The  silent  Greer  endured  the 
whipping  without  wincing  or  speaking.  Even 
in  the  midst  of  their  work,  Leonard  found  time 
to  wonder  why  this  fellow  had  stolen  his  medi 
cine  chest. 

Presently  the  two  helmsmen  could  barely  turn 
the  wheel.  Madden  could  feel  the  jerking  of 
the  cable  even  through  the  great  mass  of  pitch 
ing  iron.  Then  the  wheel  clamped  viselike.  The 
dock's  headlight  and  the  intermittent  glow  of  the 
tug  teetered,  swung  out  of  line,  crossed  each 
other,  like  dancing  fires.  In  a  sort  of  panic,  the 
two  strained  at  the  solid  wheel.  A  huger  wave 
came  roaring  by,  flung  the  enormous  square 
prow  high  in  air.  As  it  fell  off  with  a  shock, 
Madden  felt  a  little  quiver  pass  over  the  lumber 
ing  pontoons.  The  dock  ceased  taking  the 
upheaved  water  with  her  slow,  constant,  aggres 
sive  movement. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  VULCAN       67 

The  cable  had  parted! 

Madden  wondered  dully  what  sort  of  cata 
clysm  had  occurred  on  the  little  tug  at  that 
tremendous  strain. 

Both  men  still  hung  to  the  hand-grips  on  the 
useless  wheel  as  the  dock  rose  and  dropped, 
thundered  and  groaned.  Now  and  then  from 
the  storm-swept  wave  tops  Madden  could  catch 
the  glimmer  of  the  Vulcan's  light.  This  slipped 
farther  and  farther  into  the  void,  heaving  night, 
then  he  saw  it  no  more. 

A  sense  of  vast  desolation  swept  over  the 
American,  and  he  was  still  staring  into  the  black 
pandemonium  ahead  when  Deschaillon,  Hogan 
and  a  third  man  came  struggling  toward  him. 

"  You  may  go  back!  "  he  yelled  wearily  above 
the  uproar.  "  Go  back  —  there's  nothing  to  do. 
The  cable's  broke  —  the  Vulcan  is  gone." 


CHAPTER  IV 
AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING 

Convinced  that  there  was  nothing  else  to  be 
done  on  the  big  dock,  Madden  went  to  his  cabin, 
threw  himself  on  the  bunk,  and  there  tumbled 
and  tossed  through  the  stormy  night,  sleeping 
brokenly  and  dreaming  of  the  missing  Vulcan. 

Finally  a  bleary  dawn  whitened  his  cabin 
ports  and  the  lad  scrambled  into  damp  clothes, 
picked  up  the  mate's  battered  telescope  and  went 
on  deck. 

He  fully  expected  to  see  the  Vulcan  lying  close 
by,  but  as  he  glanced  around  in  the  dull  light, 
an  extraordinary  scene  shunted  all  thoughts  of 
the  tug  from  his  mind.  The  wind  had  lulled, 
but  there  still  rolled  high  a  most  unusual  ocean. 
As  far  as  he  could  see  moved  a  long  solemn 
procession  of  hills  covered  with  splotches  and 
serpentine  lines  of  grays,  olives,  yellows  —  an 
ocean  in  motley.  The  great  waves  wove  these 

68 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       69 

sinuous  markings  up  and  down,  in  and  out, 
confusing  the  eye  with  changing  mazes. 

Madden  went  forward  and  studied  the  nearer 
formations  under  the  dock's  prow.  This  aston 
ishing  effect  was  caused  by  seaweed.  It  was  the 
seaweed  spray  of  this  seaweed  ocean  that  had 
whipped  him  during  the  night. 

A  glance  toward  the  stern  of  the  dock  solved 
the  mystery  of  the  balky  steering  gear.  The 
temporary  sheathing  was  choked  with  the  slimy 
stuff.  Tons  of  it  had  beaten  over  into  the  dock 
so  that  there  was  a  week's  work  of  cleaning 
ahead.  The  whole  interior  of  the  pontoons 
looked  gutted;  empty  kegs,  barrels  had  gone 
overboard,  boats  had  been  washed  away,  the  big 
coal  pile  was  scattered  like  pebbles  and  some 
half  of  it  lost.  And  one  odd  trifle  gripped 
Madden's  heart  —  the  fresh  paint  over  which 
the  crew  had  toiled  so  patiently  looked  old  and 
dingy. 

As  he  studied  the  scene,  two  seasick  navvies 
tottered  out  on  deck  to  sniff  the  clean  air.  They 
dismally  surveyed  the  traces  of  the  storm.  Then 
they  moved  weakly  toward  the  boy,  who  was 
now  scrutinizing  the  horizon  with  his  glass. 


70        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  See  any  sign  of  'er,  sir  ? "  asked  Galton 
saluting. 

Madden  took  down  the  binoculars.  "  Not  a 
trace  —  feel  better?" 

"  Some  better,  sir,  but  my  stomach  is  still  like 
th'  hocean,  sir,  a  bit  unsettled.  May  I  arsk 
where  we  are,  sir?  I  never  saw  such  streaky 
water  before." 

"  Sargasso  Sea,"  replied  Leonard. 

Galton  grunted  and  stared  at  the  spangled 
waves.  Under  its  load  of  seaweed,  the  sea  was 
falling  rapidly,  and  presently  other  seasick  nav 
vies  came  on  deck.  A  dismal  lot  they  made, 
pasty  and  sick  and  draggled. 

"You  fellows  that  are  able,"  Madden  ad 
dressed  the  group,  "get  buckets  and  shovels 
and  pile  up  that  scattered  coal.  The  exercise 
will  make  you  feel  better.  When  the  sea  is 
smoother,  we'll  rig  a  jury  mast  on  the  forward 
bridge  for  a  signal." 

A  few  of  the  men  were  still  too  sick,  but  most 
of  the  crowd  shuffled  off  to  work.  Some  of  the 
laborers  drew  off  their  pea  jackets  as  they  went, 
for  the  murky  day  was  filled  with  a  rising 
humid  warmth. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       71 

Coal  piling  was  just  getting  under  way  in 
the  heaving  dock,  when  the  door  to  Caradoc's 
cabin  swung  open  and  the  Englishman  stepped 
out. 

A  glance  at  the  tall  fellow  told  Madden  how 
he  fared.  The  narrow-set  eyes  were  inflamed, 
the  long  bronze  face  had  lost  firmness  and 
seemed  inclined  to  sag  in  lines. 

"  Smith/'  called  Madden  f  riendlily,  "  you  may 
help  pile  coal  if  you  feel  like  it." 

"I  —  that  demijohn  that  you  took  last  night," 
began  the  Briton  nervously. 

"  Yes,"  Madden  became  serious. 

"  I  want  it,  if  you  please." 

Madden  looked  at  the  unstrung  fellow.  "  Can't 
get  it,  Smith;  you've  had  too  much  already." 

"Can't  get  my  own  property?"  demanded 
Caradoc,  raising  his  voice  so  all  the  men  could 
hear. 

"  No,"  snapped  Madden,  "  you  know  sailors 
are  not  allowed  to  keep  liquor  in  their  dunnage." 

"  That's  my  demijohn  and  I'll " 

"  I  smashed  it,  and  the  pieces  washed  over 
board  long  ago." 

"Overboard!"    cried    the    big    fellow.      He 


72        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY^  DOCK 

turned  hot  eyes  seaward  as  if  searching  the 
waters,  then  for  the  first  time  noticed  the  fan 
tastic  ocean  around  him.  He  stared  at  it  with 
a  strange  expression. 

"What  —  what  is  that  —  where  are  we, 
Madden?"  he  asked  with  a  catch  in  his  breath. 

The  fellow's  tremulous  condition  touched  the 
American.  "Tug  broke  away  last  night  — 
we're  adrift  in  the  Sargasso." 

A  look  of  relief  came  over  the  long  face,  but 
he  still  gazed  at  the  serpentine  patternings. 
"I  —  I  thought  I  was  seeing  —  ugh,  isn't  it 
horrible!" 

"You're  unstrung,  Caradoc;  better  go  lie 
down,"  suggested  Madden  in  considerate  tones. 

The  mood  of  the  Briton  underwent  a  charac 
teristic  quick  shift.  "  Me  lie  down?  "  he  rasped. 
"  I'll  have  my  property.  You're  grabbing 
authority  fast  enough,  but  you'll  learn  English 
men  don't  submit  to  impositions.  Threw  it  over 
board  ! "  he  laughed  with  sour  incredulity. 
"  Bet  you  have  it  in  your  cabin." 

The  men  stopped  work,  gaping  at  the  insub 
ordination.  Madden  flushed  under  the  implica 
tion.  He  stepped  forward  to  smash  the  long 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       73 

insolent  face  and  white  mustache,  but  it  was 
plain  the  Englishman  was  on  the  verge  of  a 
nervous  breakdown. 

Madden  caught  himself,  stood  drawing  short 
breaths  through  expanded  nostrils.  "  Go  to 
your  bunk,  Caradoc,  and  wait  till  you're  sane," 
he  ordered  in  fairly  even  tones,  then  turned 
abruptly,  leaving  the  big  fellow  scowling  and 
biting  his  choppy  mustache. 

The  navvies  turned  back  to  their  work,  dis 
tinctly  disappointed;  they  had  expected  a  fight. 

Within  the  next  few  days  the  crew  dropped 
into  the  routine  of  derelict  life.  When  the 
sky  cleared  and  the  sea  flattened,  it  left  the  big 
dock  amid  breathless  heat  beneath  a  molten 
tropical  sky. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  castaways 
saw  no  signs  of  life,  not  a  sail,  not  a  smoke,  not 
a  gull,  not  even  the  ripple  of  a  wave;  nothing  but 
gaudy,  motionless  markings  from  one  flat  hori 
zon  to  the  other,  dead  traceries  that  swiftly 
became  uninteresting,  then  monotonous,  then 
disagreeable,  then  maddening  in  the  aching  eyes 
of  the  crew. 

As  much  for  the  mental  health  of  the  men  as 


74        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

anything  else,  Leonard  worked  them  steadily. 
The  day's  work  was  divided  into  morning  and 
evening  watches,  because  during  the  midday  the 
iron  barge  reached  a  temperature  where  labor 
was  impossible.  During  the  cooler  watches,  the 
men  painted  desperately  to  cover  the  black 
expanse  of  the  dock  with  red  in  order  to  reflect 
part  of  the  palpitating  heat  rays. 

Through  the  idle  noon  periods,  the  crew  lay 
about  on  gunny  sacks  under  improvised  awnings, 
with  a  man  posted  on  the  forward  bridge  as 
lookout. 

The  colorful  mazes  of  the  Sargasso  were  as 
irritating  as  flowered  wall  paper  in  a  sickroom. 
Even  Hogan's  and  Deschaillon's  spirits  sagged 
under  the  brilliant  sweltering  sameness.  The 
navvies  moved  about  half  naked,  and  burned 
brown  as  nuts.  The  men  fought  over  trifles. 
Caradoc  became  a  raw  mass  of  nerves.  Once 
or  twice  Madden  attempted  to  make  things 
pleasanter  for  his  former  friend,  but  was 
repulsed  rabidly. 

Near  sunset  one  day,  the  American  was  in 
the  mate's  cabin  trying  to  work  out  his  daily 
reckoning.  According  to  the  lad's  inexpert  cal- 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       75 

dilations,  the  dock  was  drifting  southeast  at  the 
rate  of  some  six  or  seven  miles  each  day.  The 
dock  was  a  prisoner  in  that  vast  central  swirl 
between  the  North  and  South  Atlantic,  that  was 
swinging  in  stagnating  circles  when  Columbus 
sailed  for  the  new  world;  it  lay  exactly  the  same 
when  the  Norsemen  beat  down  the  coasts  of 
Europe;  it  would  continue  as  long  as  Africa, 
Europe,  and  the  Americas  deflected  ocean  cur 
rents  to  produce  its  motion.  Its  vast  flaring 
dial  was  the  clock  of  the  world,  marking  the 
passing  ages.  In  all  that  stretch  of  time  the 
Sargasso  must  have  received  strange  prey,  tri 
remes,  caravels,  galleons,  schooners,  men  o'  war, 
derelicts  ancient  and  modern,  but  certainly  never 
before  had  the  art  of  man  placed  such  a  colossal 
and  extraordinary  fabric  within  its  swing. 

Some  such  thoughts  as  these  passed  through 
Madden's  mind  as  he  pursued  his  reckoning 
through  trigonometric  tables.  The  light  fell 
redder  and  dimmer  through  the  ports  and  he 
hurried  to  finish  his  work  before  darkness 
required  a  lamp  in  the  steamy  cabin.  A  furnace- 
like  breath,  laden  with  malodorous  ship  smells, 
drifted  in  upon  him.  Madden's  thin  undershirt 


76        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

clung  sweatily  to  the  muscular  ridges  down  his 
back  and  moulded  the  graceful  deltoid  at  the 
shoulder. 

Madden  pushed  back  his  figures  as  Gaskin 
entered  with  a  tray.  The  cook's  face  was  scarlet 
and  dripping. 

"  How  much  provisions  have  we  on  board, 
Gaskin?" 

"  Another  month's  supplies,  sir  —  most  of  the 
stores  was  on  the  Vulcan,  sir."  Gaskin  was 
dignified  even  in  the  heat. 

Leonard  turned  to  his  map  showing  the  drift 
of  the  dock;  she  was  swinging  farther  and 
farther  out  of  the  trade  routes  every  day.  The 
probability  of  a  rescue  steadily  decreased. 

"  In  the  future,  Gaskin,  cut  rations  one 
third." 

The    cook    covertly    swabbed    his    fat    jowl. 

"  Yes,  sir  —  are  we  about  to "  he  checked 

his  question.     "Yes,  sir,"  he  agreed  instead. 

"Yes,"  said  Leonard,  answering  the  half 
question,  "  it's  a  very  necessary  precaution,  and 
I  hope  this  small  reduction  will  be  sufficient." 

"Thankee  very  much,  sir."  Gaskin  made  a 
little  bob  and  withdrew  ceremoniously.  Madden 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       77 

knew  that  Gaskin  would  continue  to  bob  and 
thank  as  long  as  he  had  strength  to  do  either. 

Reducing  the  rations  was  not  a  sudden  impulse 
with  Madden.  Ever  since  the  first  expectation 
of  the  Vulcan's  return  had  lost  its  immediate 
edge,  the  American  knew  that  the  hope  of  final 
rescue  depended  upon  conserving  their  food 
supply. 

The  Sargasso  Sea  is  a  great  oblong  whorl  in 
the  Atlantic  some  four  hundred  miles  wide  and 
fifteen  hundred  long.  Trade  routes  cut  along 
its  northern  boundaries,  and  skirt  its  south 
western  boundary.  The  dock  might  very  well 
traverse  two  thousand  miles  without  seeing  a 
sail.  At  a  rate  of  six  miles  a  day,  it  would 
take  eleven  months  to  reach  waters  in  which 
a  rescue  might  be  hoped. 

In  the  meantime,  the  men  grew  more  and 
more  intractable  and  insubordinate.  That  day, 
when  Madden  had  ordered  Heck  Mulcher  to 
paint  in  a  certain  place,  the  navvy  had  grum 
bled  out  a  "That's  all  very  well  for  you,  sir," 
and  the  rest  was  lost  in  a  mutter. 

The  uncertain  discipline  of  his  men  made 
Madden  hesitate  to  cut  the  rations  more  decid- 


78        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

edly.  He  felt  that  his  command  was  questioned 
by  the  sailors. 

As  the  boy  gloomily  dispatched  his  own  sup 
per,  his  ear  caught  a  faint  persistent  tapping 
on  the  iron  wall  which  faced  the  mate's  cabin. 
At  first  he  paid  no  attention  to  it,  assuming  it 
was  the  contraction  of  the  iron  in  the  cooling 
temperature  of  the  oncoming  night  that  made 
the  popping.  But  as  he  ate  it  was  at  last  borne 
in  that  these  taps  came  in  the  irregular  but 
orderly  sequence  of  a  telegraphic  code. 

With  this  thought  in  mind,  he  listened  atten 
tively.  In  his  work  as  engineer  he  had  had 
occasion  to  study  up  Morse  in  heliographing. 

It  proved  one  of  the  most  senseless  messages 
the  boy  had  ever  translated: 

"Tiny  arm,  men  plan  mu."  Then  it  was 
repeated,  'Tiny  arm,  men  plan  mu."  This  odd 
sentence  was  retapped  four  or  five  times  and 
at  last  ceased.  It  was  perhaps  some  beginner 
learning  the  code,  but  who  in  that  crew  could 
be  working  out  the  telegraphic  code?  Leonard 
thought  over  the  men,  one  by  one,  but  struck 
nobody  who  appealed  to  him  as  an  incipient 
telegrapher. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       79 

The  American  continued  thinking  over  the 
incident  idly,  the  odd  time  the  telegrapher  had 
chosen  to  practice  his  art,  the  queer  message  he 
had  rapped  out,  when  suddenly  the  message 
whirled  around  in  his  mind,  and  he  perceived 
he  had  begun  listening  in  the  middle  of  a  very 
alarming  sentence,  and  had  been  reading  from 
one  middle  to  the  next.  The  message  was: 
"  Men  plan  mutiny  —  Arm !  "  "  Men  plan 
mutiny  —  Arm ! " 

Madden  got  to  his  feet  with  nervous  quick 
ness,  and  stood  listening  intently.  The  question 
of  who  sent  the  message  now  became  of  sharp 
importance.  If  the  men  planned  mutiny,  he 
could  rely  upon  the  telegrapher  —  perhaps. 

There  was  still  enough  light  in  the  steamy 
cabin  to  discern  objects.  The  American  began 
rummaging  through  table  drawers,  lockers  and 
racks  for  some  effective  weapon,  preferably  a 
revolver. 

At  that  moment  he  heard  footsteps  approach 
ing  his  cabin  door.  An  instant  later  the  shutter 
swung  open  without  the  formality  of  a  knock 
and  two  dark  figures  entered. 

"Well?"  inquired  the  American  sharply. 


80       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY,  DOCK 

"  It's  us!  "  put  in  two  voices  at  once. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  It's  a  bit  of  a  disthurbance,  Mister  Madden, 
that's " 

"  Zat  Smeeth,"  put  in  a  pinched  French  accent 
excitedly,  "he  says  zare  ees  no  mate,  zat 
you " 

"Be  quiet,  Dashalong;  th'  gintilman  can't 
understhand  yer  brogue.  Smith  siz  ye  have  no 
authority  by  rights;  that  we  should  run  things 
as  we  plaze;  that  th'  bhoys  should  have  all 
they  want  to  ate;  that  we  should  have  rum  with 
aitch  male,  sor." 

"  And  have  you  two  fellows  come  to  get  these 
things?  "  inquired  Leonard  in  a  hard  voice. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  trilled  out  Deschaillon,  "  Eem- 
possible ! " 

"  We  sthrolled  around  to  till  ye,  and  bide  wid 
ye  a  bit,  and  whiniver  th'  romp  starts,  me  and 
Dash  here  ar-re  going  to  swing  partners,  eh, 
Dash?" 

"OH,  beg  pardon,"  apologized  Leonard 
frankly,  "but  I  had  just  been  warned  and  I 
was  looking  for  trouble " 

"Thot's  all  r-right,  Misther  Madden.     We 


'AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING      81 

ar-re  ,wid  ye.  I  am  always  for  law  and  ordher, 
Misther  Madden,  aven  whin  I  am  most 
disordherly." 

"  That  ees  true,  he  ees,"  nodded  Deschaillon. 

"And  I  always  fight  on  th'  wakest  side  no 
matther  whether  it's  roight  or  wrong." 

"  Hogan  ees  a  chevalier,  no  matter  eef  he  does 
have  to  paint/'  corroborated  the  Frenchman. 

"Are  all  the  other  boys  in  with  Smith?" 

"In  with  him,  sor?  Fr-rum  th'  way  they 
stick  around  him  ye'd  think  he  was  a  long-lost 
rilitive  come  back  wid  a  million  pounds." 

"I'm  glad  you  fellows  are  with  me,  Mike. 
I  was  just  looking  for  a  gun,  but  if  you'll  stand 
by  me " 

"Oh,  don't  pull  a  pistol,  Misther  Madden. 
A  man  who  would  pull  a  gun  in  a  free-for-all 
—  why  he  would  smash  th'  fiddles  at  a  dance." 

"  As  you  deed  not  fight  zee  day  Smeeth  said 
you  stole  zee  whiskey,  zee  men " 

"Think  ye'll  be  aisy,"  finished  Hogan. 

"  I've  just  ordered  a  change  in  diet,"  observed 
Madden  dryly. 

"  Oh,  thin  ye're  goin'  to  give  in  to  th' 
spalpeens?" 


82        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY.  DOCK 

"No,  I've  cut  rations  one-third  —  and  that 
goes ! "  There  was  a  finality  about  the  dictum 
that  reassured  his  allies. 

"Uh-huh,  Dashalong,  I  towld  ye  Misther 
Madden  wasn't  no " 

The  sentence  was  interrupted  by  more  feet 
approaching  outside,  then  a  heavy  knocking  at 
the  door.  The  two  men  automatically  moved 
over  to  Madden's  side  and  faced  the  entrance. 

"  Light  a  lamp,  Deschaillon,"  directed  Mad 
den  crisply. 

"  Yis,  two  of  'em  —  I  want  to  watch  'em  fall 
out  o'  th'  tail  o'  me  eye." 

The  Frenchman  struck  a  match  for  his  task. 
Madden  invited  the  men  to  enter. 

The  whole  crew  came  through  the  door  in  an 
orderly  but  somewhat  embarrassed  manner.  A 
few  of  the  men  had  on  shirts,  some  undershirts, 
others  were  stripped  to  the  waist,  their  torsos 
shining  with  moisture.  Deschaillon's  hand 
trembled  slightly  as  he  lighted  two  bracket 
lamps.  Hogan's  little  eyes  sparkled  in  antici 
pation. 

"  What  is  it,  Galton?  "  Madden  picked  out  the 
nearest  man  bruskly. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING      83 

Galton  shuffled  his  bare  feet  on  the  hot  boards. 
"  We  hev  been  thinkin',"  he  began  in  a  throaty 
cockney  voice,  "that  since  ye  was  not  mate  to 

begirt  with "  he  looked  back  over  the  crowd 

toward   the   real   leader,    Caradoc,    for   moral 
support 

The  men  gave  Smith  an  opening  toward  the 
American.  In  the  oppressive  heat  of  the 
crowded,  lamp-lit  room  everyone  was  crimson 
and  dripping  except  Caradoc,  whose  face  was 
curiously  bloodless  beneath  its  sunburn. 

"  If  you  are  spokesman,  Smith,  what  do  you 
want?"  demanded  Leonard  with  rising  inflec 
tion. 

"We  are  all  workmen  together,"  began 
Caradoc  with  an  obvious  effort,  panting  in  the 
heat.  "  We're  working  together,  living  together, 
roasting  together  in  this  awful  furnace.  Your 
authority  was  only  meant  for  a  few  days.  Now 
the  Vulcan  is  gone.  Nobody  knows  for  how 
long.  We  think  all  men  should  share  and  share 
alike." 

"  All  this  demonstration  to  tell  me  you  want 
me  to  eat  at  the  regular  mess?  " 

"  No,"  quivered  Caradoc,  "  it's  not  just  eating. 


84       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

We  are  not  pigs.  We  want  a  hand  in  running 
things,  and  we  want  a  portion  of  rum  served 
at  meals,  as  every  decent  ship  allows.  We 
want " 

"Oh,  so  it's  drink,  not  eating,"  satirized 
Madden. 

"Rum's  our  right  as  sailormen,"  mumbled 
Galton. 

"Rum  in  this  climate?"  Ridicule  tinctured 
the  American's  tone.  "  Smith,  I  believe  you 
once  proposed  to  write  an  article  on  Climate 
and  Alcoholism."  He  turned  to  the  men.  "  Do 
you  fellows  want  to  build  a  fire  inside  your 
selves  when  your  lungs  and  hearts  are  strained 
to  breaking  already?" 

"It  cools  you  off  in  hot  weather,"  answered 
a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"Cools  nothing!  It  heats  you  up."  He 
leaned  forward  and  tapped  the  table  decisively 
at  each  word,  "  It  won't  be  served,  y'under- 
stand!  "  His  last  tap  was  a  thump.  "  I'm  boss 
here  —  no  rum!  And  I'll  tell  you  right  now, 
I'm  going  to  cut  your  rations  one-third,  too — , 
hear?  Now,  get  out,  all  of  you  —  move  out  o' 
my  cabin ! " 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING      85 

There  was  a  shuffling  among  the  navvies 
toward  the  arrowy  lad  who  confronted  them. 
Deschaillon  balanced  himself  on  one  leg,  French 
boxing  fashion,  ready  to  kick  out  with  the 
deadly  accuracy  of  an  ostrich.  Hogan  gave  a 
brief  happy  laugh,  broken  by  his  jump,  the 
crack  of  his  fist  against  some  jaw  and  the 
stumbling  of  a  man. 

As  the  fight  flamed  down  the  sweating  line, 
Farnol  Greer  suddenly  rushed  through  the  door. 
"  This  is  mutiny !  "  he  shouted  aloud.  "  Every 
man-jack  will  hang  for  it  by  the  ship's  articles ! 
I'm  for  you,  Mr.  Madden ! "  and  he  made  a 
surprising  assault  from  the  rear. 

Madden  and  Caradoc  squared  away  at  each 
other.  The  Englishman  headed  his  men,  his 
long  face  sinister  in  the  lamplight.  But  he 
had  hardly  taken  a  step  when  an  absolute  pallor 
whitened  his  countenance,  he  halted,  shaking, 
gasping,  then  flung  back  an  arm  to  Galton. 

"I  —  I'm  fizzled  out ! >J  he  stammered  with 
twitching  lips.  "  Go  ahead  —  fight !  " 

"You'll  hang  — you'll  hang  for  it!"  bawled 
Greer,  mauling  at  the  men  behind. 

Caradoc  crumpled  down  on  the  floor.     The 


86        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

navvies,  with  an  English  dread  of  legal  author 
ity,  hesitated,  thinking  perhaps  Caradoc  had 
deserted  them  purposely  to  clear  his  own  skirts 
in  the  mutiny. 

Madden  instantly  caught  up  the  loose  ends 
of  his  raveling  authority. 

"  Lay  him  on  the  bunk,  Galtonl "  he  com 
manded. 

Galton  obeyed  instinctively,  half  carrying  the 
long  sagging  form  to  the  bunk. 

"  Hogan!  "  he  thundered  at  the  cyclone  on  his 
right,  "you  and  Mulcher  stop  that!  Stop  it, 
Mulcher ! "  he  turned  to  some  of  the  men. 
"Part  >em  there!  Stop  'em!" 

Six  navvies,  three  to  the  man,  jumped  and 
grabbed  the  combatants. 

"Just  look,  will  you?"  Madden  pointed  to 
Caradoc  on  the  bunk.  "You  fools  have  fol 
lowed  a  man  half  mad  with  a  sunstroke!  He 
has  blown  his  nerves  all  to  pieces  with  a  rum 
bottle,  and  you  bunch  of  mush-heads  have 
mutinied  to  give  him  more  rum  so  he  could 
finish  the  job!" 

The  leaderless  insurgents  stared  at  Caradoc's 
still  form,  then  began  filing  out  of  the  cabin. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       87 

"  Deschaillon,  get  that  medicine  chest  out  of 
my  bag!" 

The  Frenchman  moved  toward  the  bag  indi 
cated,  when  Madden  remembered. 

"  Here,  come  back,  every  one  of  you ! "  he 
cried. 

The  mutineers  flowed  in  again,  entirely  sub 
dued  now. 

Madden  was  loosening  what  few  clothes 
Smith  wore.  He  twisted  about,  facing  the 
crew. 

"  Some  of  you  fellows  stole  my  medicine 
chest,"  he  accused  boldly.  "  I  want  it !  The 
man  who  has  it  bring  it  here ! " 

The  men  stood  very  still,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other  uneasily. 

"  Listen,  men,"  repeated  Leonard  intensely,, 
"I've  got  to  have  it  —  understand?  I  don't 
mind  your  stealing  it.  I  won't  say  a  word  to 
you  about  that,  but  I'll  manhandle  the  scoundrel 
that's  keeping  it  now !  " 

There  was  a  growled  chorus  of  protests. 
Madden  quivered  at  his  impotence  to  put  his 
hand  on  the  thief  in  the  crowd. 

One  of  the  navvies  caught  the  expression  on 


88       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Madden's  face,  and  blurted,  "If  I  'ad  it,  I'd 
bring  it  back  —  'onest!" 

Leonard  suddenly  recalled  his  suspicions.  He 
looked  at  Farnol  Greer,  whose  timely  shouting 
and  attack  had  practically  quelled  the  rising. 
For  a  moment  Madden's  old  friendship  for 
Smith  and  his  new  gratitude  for  this  silent 
unknown  youth  struggled,  then  he  said: 

"Greer,  do  you  know  anything  about  that 
chest?" 

A  look  of  blank  surprise,  then  indignation 
went  over  Greer's  heavy  serious  face,  then  he 
said  bitingly: 

"  You  sure  stand  by  your  pal,  all  right,"  and 
moved  out  of  the  cabin  without  another  word. 

Caradoc  lay  dry  and  burning  on  the  hot  bunk, 
his  big  hands  pressed  to  his  forehead,  eyes 
clenched  shut. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do!"  cried  Madden 
miserably.  "  Hogan,  Deschaillon,  for  God's 
sake,  if  you  know  anything  about  that  medicine 
chest,  tell  me  — I'm  not  accusing  anybody!" 

"  Sure,  sure,"  cried  Hogan  sympathetically, 
"  Oi'm  sorry  Oi  ain't  got  it.  If  Oi  only  had  me 
chance  again  I'd  stole  it  long  ago ! " 


'AN  INTERRUPTED  MEETING       89 

"  I'm  sorree,  but  I  never  stole  eet  either, 
Meester  Madden." 

"  If  I  only  had  bromide !  "  growled  the  Amer 
ican,  watching  Smith's  broad  hairy  chest  lift 
and  drop  in  short  breaths. 

The  Englishman  opened  his  hot  red  eyes. 
"What's  that  to  you,  Madden?"  he  asked 
thickly.  The  choppy  white  mustache  pulled 
down  in  a  sneer.  "  I  might  as  well  die  now  — 
I'm  nothing  but  a  remittance  man.  A  remit 
tance  man,"  he  repeated  the  term  with  mingled 
self  contempt  and  bravado.  "  My  people  have 
shipped  me  —  flung  me  away,  broken,  no  use," 
he  flung  out  a  long  hot  hand  at  Madden.  "  Why 
do  you  try  to  pick  up  the  pieces?  "  He  laughed 
thickly,  which  sent  wild  pains  through  his  head 
and  stopped  him  suddenly. 

Madden  stared  penetratingly  at  this  outbreak. 

"  Pour  water  over  him,  Deschaillon,  Hogan," 
commanded  the  American  briefly. 

As  his  two  helpers  hurried  out  after  buckets, 
Leonard  came  close  to  the  sufferer. 

"  Where  is  it?  "  he  asked  shortly. 

"  Where  —  what?" 

Madden  stooped  over  him.     "Where's  that 


90        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

medicine  chest?  What  did  you  do  with  it? 
You  wouldn't  have  started  that  tirade  unless 
you  had  it." 

"  You  Americans  —  very  keen,"  panted  Car- 
adoc  in  the  midst  of  his  rackings.  "  Think 
you're  d-deuced  smart  —  it's  in  my  bag's  lining 
—  there  was  some  alcohol  in  it,  so  I  took  it  — 
let  it  go  —  don't  do  anything  —  for  —  me." 

Deschaillon  entered  with  a  bucket  of  sea- 
water.  They  stretched  the  sick  man  on  the 
floor,  and  a  moment  later,  the  Englishman 
shuddered  under  the  deluge. 

"  This  ought  to  be  an  ice  pack,"  observed 
Madden,  then :  "  I  believe  I  remember  laying 
that  medicine  case  in  my  old  cabin;  I'll  see," 
and  he  walked  out  of  the  mate's  room  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  V 
SAIL  HO! 

Caradoc  lay  stretched  out  in  a  deck  chair, 
on  top  of  the  broad  wall  of  the  dock,  a  cool 
dawn  breeze  playing  over  him.  He  looked 
across  the  motley  sea  toward  an  opalescent  sky 
reddening  in  the  east. 

"  No,"  replied  Madden  without  great  interest, 
from  his  seat  on  the  rail,  "  I've  no  idea  what  you 
mean  by  a  '  remittance  man.'  " 

The  Englishman's  eyes  strayed  wearily  from 
the  limpid  dawn  to  the  tiny  image  of  a  lion 
couchant  on  a  small  blue  enameled  shield  which 
he  used  as  a  watch  fob. 

"  Among  the  English "  He  paused  and 

began  again :  "  Among  a  certain  class  of  Eng 
lish  families,"  he  proceeded  in  an  impersonal 
tone,  "  when  a  member  goes  hopelessly  astray, 
that  member  is  sent  abroad  to  travel  indefinitely. 
Remittances  are  forwarded  to  him  from  place 

91 


92        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

to  place,  wherever  he  wishes  to  go,  but " 

there  was  a  scarcely  noticeable  pause  —  "he 
can't  come  back  to  England  any  more." 

"  O-o-h !  "  dragged  out  Madden  in  a  low  voice, 
comprehending  the  man  before  him  for  the  first 
time. 

"  So  they  are  called  remittance  men  —  always 
remitted  to."  Caradoc's  long  fever-worn  face, 
that  was  filling  out  in  convalescence,  colored 
momentarily. 

"  So  that's  what  you  were,"  said  the  American 
after  a  pause;  "a  remittance  man,  simply  drift 
ing  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  supported  by 
your  family,  boozing  your  life  away,  and  always 
longing  to  see  England  again?" 

"You  can  put  things  so  raw,  Madden," 
responded  Caradoc  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile.  "  I 
am,  not  were!' 

"  Were,"  insisted  the  American  quickly. 
"Before  your  collapse  you  were  a  confirmed 
alcoholic,  but  you  are  slightly  different  now. 
Your  eight  days  of  fever,  when  Hogan  and  I 
had  to  hold  you  in  bed,  must  have  burned  you 
out,  cleaned  up  your  whole  system.  You  are 
nearer  normal  now  than  you  were.  You  have 


SAIL  HO!  93 

a  fresh  start.  It's  up  to  you  what  you  do 
with  it." 

The  Englishman  looked  at  his  friend  with  a 
sort  of  slow  surprise  on  his  face.  "  I  hadn't 
noticed  it,  but  I  don't  believe  I  do  crave  drink 
as  keenly." 

"  No,  sickness  is  often  not  so  bad  a  thing  as 
folks  think.  It  is  nature's  way  of  putting  us 
right.  Sometimes/'  he  added  thoughtfully,  "  we 
crumple  up  in  the  process,  but  we  can  hardly 
blame  the  old  lady  for  that." 

"You're  an  odd  fellow,  Madden,"  laughed 
Caradoc,  getting  slowly  out  of  his  chair  and 
stretching  his  arms.  "  Well,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  I  feel  fine  this  morning  —  let's  take  a 
constitutional  around  the  dock." 

The  young  men  walked  off,  side  by  side,  and 
began  the  circuit  of  the  dock's  quarter-mile  out 
line.  The  breeze  was  such  a  rarity  in  the 
becalmed  region  that  the  two  paused  now  and 
then  to  take  long  grateful  breaths,  and  to 
watch  the  little  wind  waves  ripple  the  glassy 
Sargasso  lanes. 

As  they  walked,  navvies  came  out  with  buckets 
and  brushes  and  set  to  work  painting  the  maze 


94        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

of  iron  stanchions  that  lined  the  long  interior 
of  the  dock. 

"I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  stop  that  painting," 
remarked  Leonard  after  watching  them  a 
moment. 

"They'll  be  very  glad  of  it  — but  why?" 

"  It  consumes  too  much  energy.  The  men 
can  live  on  less  if  they  quit  work." 

"  Oh,  I  see." 

"  I  think  I  shall  have  to  cut  their  food  down 
to  half  rations.  We've  been  adrift  nearly  six 
teen  days  now  and  not  a  smoke  plume  from  the 
Vulcan.  She  has  lost  us  —  if  she  didn't 
founder." 

"  Any  chance  of  meeting  some  other  vessel?  " 

"  Here  in  the  ocean's  graveyard?  " 

"  Are  we  far  in?  "  inquired  Smith  with  rising 
concern. 

"  Close  to  three  hundred  miles,  and  getting 
deeper  every  day." 

The  two  walked  on  mechanically,  with  the 
precise  step  of  those  who  seek  exercise.  The 
rim  of  the  sun  cut  the  edge  of  the  ocean  and  a 
long  trail  of  light  made  the  east  difficult  for 
their  eyes. 


SAIL  HO!  95 

"Any  danger  of  starving?"  questioned  Car- 
adoc,  staring  moth-like  at  the  blinding  disc  of 
flame. 

"Perhaps  not,"  meditated  Madden.  "I've 
been  thinking  about  it.  As  a  last  resort  this 
seaweed  is  edible,  at  any  rate  certain  species  of 
it.  The  Chinese  and  Japanese  eat  it,  but  that 
isn't  much  of  a  recommendation  to  a  European. 
Then  the  water  is  full  of  fish  that  come  to  nibble 
at  the  stuff." 

Caradoc  was  obviously  inattentive  to  this 
consoling  information.  "  Yes,"  he  murmured 
politely,  "Japanese  do  nibble  at  the  fish." 

Madden  looked  around  at  his  abstracted 
friend,  who  was  still  staring  into  the  molten 
sunrise. 

"  When  the  Japanese  come  to  nibble  at  the 
fish,  we  might  get  some  food  from  them,"  sug 
gested  Madden  with  American  delight  in  the 
ridiculous, 

"  Perhaps  so." 

"  And  fans,  parasols,  and  little  ivory  curios 
—  souvenirs  of  the  Sargasso,  when  we  roll  up 
the  dock  and  take  it  home." 

Smith  nodded  soberly,  still  gazing. 


96        CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"What  are  you  looking  at,  Caradoc?" 
laughed  the  American. 

"  I  say,  Madden,  just  look  at  that  sun,  will 
you?  I  thought  I  saw  a  little  black  fleck  against 
it  straightaway  to  the  east  right  down  on  the 
horizon." 

"  You're  injuring  your  sight,  that's  all,"  the 
American  was  still  smiling.  "  You  know  black 
specks  will  dance  before  your  eyes  if  you  stare 
at  the  sun  too  long." 

"  But  this  was  shaped  like  a  sail,"  persisted 
Smith,  staring  again. 

"  Illusion,"  diagnosed  Madden  promptly,  but 
his  eyes  followed  Caradoc's  eastward  never 
theless. 

As  far  as  his  sight  could  reach  up  the  golden 
path,  he  saw  the  black  markings  of  seaweed; 
then  his  vision  became  lost  in  a  mist  of  illu 
mination.  However,  in  this  region,  he  could 
distinguish  things  dimly  and  in  flashes. 

Presently,  in  one  of  these  clear  instants,  he 
saw  flashed,  like  the  single  film  of  a  moving 
picture,  the  tiny  black  silhouette  of  a  ship's  sail 
against  the  dazzling  east.  Next  moment  it  was 
lost  in  light. 


SAIL  HO!  97 

"I  told  you!"  cried  Caradoc,  getting  his 
friend's  expression.  "It's  there!  We've  both 
seen  it !  A  ship,  Madden !  " 

Then  he  turned  with  more  strength  than 
Madden  thought  was  in  him.  "  Sail  ho,  men!  " 
he  sang  out.  "A  sail!" 

"  Come  up,  fellows,  and  take  a  look!  "  chimed 
in  Madden  just  as  eagerly.  "  We  believe  we  see 
a  sail!" 

The  crew  dropped  work  at  once,  and  came 
climbing  the  ladder  up  the  deep  side  of  the 
canyon  like  a  string  of  monkeys ;  then  they  came 
running  across  the  red  decking. 

"Where?"  "  W'ot  direction?  "  "  Where  ees 
eet?"  came  a  chorus  of  inquiries. 

The  two  were  pointing  and  soon  the  whole 
crew  was  lined  up  staring  into  the  brilliance. 
Their  fresh  eyes  caught  the  glimpse  immediately 
and  held  it  long  enough  to  make  sure. 

" A  sail!"  "There  she  is!"  "Oi  see  her!" 
bellowed  half  a  dozen  voices. 

The  whole  crew  fell  into  tense,  happy  confu 
sion,  laughing,  staring,  yelling,  speculating,  slap 
ping  backs. 

"Will  she  see  us?"  cried  someone. 


98       CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  Do  ye  think  she'd  overlook  the  whole  west 
half  o'  th'  sea,  Galton?" 

"  She  weel  run  against  us  eef  she  cooms  thees 
way." 

"  But  she  might  not  know  we  are  in  distress?  " 

"  Disthress,  is  it  ye're  sayin'  ?  We're  not  in 
disthress,  ye  loon.  This  is  th'  happiest  day  o' 
me  loife." 

Leonard  turned  to  the  Irishman.  "  Hogan, 
go  dip  that  flag  on  the  jury  mast  —  wiggle  it 
up  and  down  —  let  'em  know  something  is 
wrong  —  make  'em  think  we  have  the  rickets  if 
nothing  else." 

Two  men  ran  off  with  Hogan  to  the  forward 
bridge;  the  others  stared,  waved,  shouted  and 
let  their  excitement  bubble  down. 

"  But  I  don't  understand  a  sailing  vessel  in 
these  waters,"  speculated  Leonard, 

v  Maybe  it's  a  derelick?"  surmised  Galton. 
"I've  'eard  as  'ow  this  was  a  great  place  for 
derelicks," 

"'Ow  could  she  be  a  derelick,"  argued 
Mulcher,  "w'en  she  'as  so  much  canvas  aloft? 
You  run  up  on  derelicks  an*  git  sunk,  ever'  cove 
knows  that." 


SAIL  HO!  99 

"  I  carn't  think  of  hall  these  things  at  once ! " 
retorted  Galton. 

"  Perhaps  she  ees  the  Vulcan  under  sail  with 
deesabled  engines?"  suggested  Deschaillon. 

This  explanation  was  accepted  unanimously 
and  joy  broke  out  afresh. 

"  Why  sure,  th'  Vulcan,  th'  good  old  Vulcan! 
Now,  lads,  let's  give  three  cheers  and  maybe 
it'll  reach  5er!" 

Madden  left  the  men  trying  to  reach  her  with 
their  bellows  and  went  below  after  the  mate's 
binoculars.  When  he  returned  the  sun  had 
swung  up  above  the  rim  of  the  ocean  and  the 
sail  was  plainly  discernible.  He  leveled  his 
glasses  and  his  eyes  went  searching  among  the 
distant  markings  of  seaweed,  until  it  finally 
rested  on  the  sail.  The  vessel  was  hull  down. 
There  was  nothing  to  see  except  a  little  canvas 
stretched  neatly  aloft  and  ship-shape  masts  and 
spars.  He  observed  her  attentively  for  some 
time.  She  seemed  to  be  making  very  little 
headway.  All  in  all,  Madden  made  little  of  the 
craft,  so  he  handed  the  glass  to  Smith.  The 
Englishman  was  likewise  puzzled,  and  the  binoc 
ulars  went  down  the  line  of  curious  men. 


100      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

There  was  something  in  the  way  the  youth 
named  Farnol  Greer  handled  the  instrument  that 
caused  Madden  to  ask: 

"What  do  you  make  out,  Greer?" 

"  She  is  lying  to,  sir.  She's  backing  her 
tops'ls  flat  against  the  breeze,  and  her  mainsTs 
reefed  and  drawing  with  it." 

"  Lying  to!"  cried  three  or  four  voices. 
"Wot  does  she  mean  by  that?  Looks  as  if 
she'd  be  bloomin'  glad  to  get  out  o'  such  a  bally 
place  as  this !  " 

"  Let  me  have  another  look."  Madden  re 
sumed  the  binoculars. 

Now  that  Madden' s  attention  was  called  to 
this  unusual  disposition  of  the  sails,  he  could 
make  out  their  position  for  himself. 

This  started  another  tide  of  speculation  buzz 
ing  among  the  castaways.  Was  the  Vulcan 
crippled?  Had  she  run  short  of  coal?  But 
why  should  she  voluntarily  lay-to  in  the  very 
sight  of  her  quarry? 

"  They're  fishin',"  surmised  Deschaillon,  "  off 
in  th'  boats  fishin' ;  they're  weethout  food  also." 

This  wild  surmise  was  the  only  reasonable 
hypothesis  that  had  been  struck  on.  Another 


SAIL  HO!  101 

group  of  men  rushed  for  the  jury  mast  to  show 
the  fishermen  that  their  presence  was  desired. 
At  any  rate  the  faint  breeze  was  very  slowly 
bringing  the  two  vessels  together. 

If  the  men  had  been  heretofore  anxious  that 
the  cool  breeze  continue,  now  their  anxiety  was 
redoubled.  At  any  moment  it  might  die  away 
and  leave  the  Vulcan  stranded  beyond  communi 
cation.  In  painful  uncertainty,  they  watched 
the  tug  drag  her  hull  slowly  into  sight,  then 
slowly  eat  her  way  down  the  long  mazy  lanes  of 
the  Sargasso. 

Then,  when  she  was  well  in  view,  Farnol 
Greer  said: 

"  She  is  not  the  Vulcan,  sir." 

By  this  time  all  the  men  had  their  brown 
faces  wrinkled  up  against  the  glare  of  the  sun 
shine.  Now  they  redoubled  their  gaze  on  the 
distant  vessel. 

"  Faith,  and  sure  enough  she  isn't ! "  cried 
Hogan. 

Greer  was  right;  the  strange  vessel  was  not 
the  tug.  She  had  a  funnel  amidship  and  two 
masts,  but  there  her  resemblance  to  the  Vulcan 
ceased. 


102      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  crew  stared,  talked,  speculated,  until  the 
Sun  swung  up  like  a  white-hot  metal  ball  in  the 
sky,  and  the  quivering  heat  drove  them  below 
under  the  awnings,  From  here  they  could  still 
view  the  stranger,  but  not  to  so  good  advantage. 
The  breeze,  by  good  fortune  lasted  till  deep  in 
the  morning,  but  finally  dropped  down  in  the 
blanketing  heat,  with  the  unknown  craft  a  good 
three  miles  distant 

The  dock's  crew  could  make  out  no  sign  of 
life  as  they  strained  their  eyes  through  the  glare 
of  tropical  brilliance.  The  high-lights  of  the 
schooner's  reversed  topsails  and  the  luminous 
shadows  of  her  mainsail  stood  out  vividly 
against  the  hot  copper  sky.  The  multi-colored 
markings  of  the  ocean  and  the  sharp  line  of 
the  horizon  finished  a  very  picture  of  pitiless 
heat. 

The  men  stood  beneath  the  awning,  legs  apart, 
arms  held  away  from  bodies,  and  stared  from 
under  dripping  brows  for  some  signs  of  recog 
nition  from  the  stranger. 

"  'Asn't  she  got  up  a  single  rag  to  show  us 
she  sees  us?"  puffed  Galton,  swiping  his  hand 
across  his  forehead  and  flinging  drops  on  the 


SAIL  HO!  103 

iron  deck,  wfiere  they  evaporated  the  moment 
they  hit. 

"  Don't  see  none/*  replied  the  navvy  who 
possessed  the  binoculars  at  that  moment, 

"'Ave  they  any  boats?" 

"  One  cleated  down  for'ard,  one  slung  on  the 
midship  davits,  and  I  think  I  make  bout  one 
on  t'other  side  past  the  booby  hatch." 

"  And  not  a  soul  on  deck?  " 

"  Not  unless  they're  settin'  on  thj  fur  side  o' 
thj  superstructure." 

"  Wot  would  they  want  to  be  settin'  in  th* 
sun  for?"  demanded  Galton  brusquely. 

"'Ow  do  I  know?  If  they  was  Eth'opians, 
wouldn't  they  set  in  th'  sun?  " 

"  This  is  as  clost  as  we'll  ever  git,"  surmised 
another  voice.  "  The  night  breeze'll  blow  'er 
back  where  she  come  from." 

"Well,  w'ere's  that?"  demanded  Mulcher 
savagely. 

"  Why,  Eth'opia,  I  reckon,  if  she's  got  a  crew 
of  Eth'opians  settin'  on  t'other  side  of  'er 
superstructure." 

"They  ain't  a  man-jack  aboard,  and  you 
know  it,"  snarled  Galton,  "  or  'e'd  be  poppin'  'is 


104      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

eyes  hout  at  such  a  'orrible  big  sight  as  we 
must  be." 

"Anyway,  I'll  bet  she  blows  back  w'ere  she 
come  from,  to-night,"  persisted  the  advocate  of 
this  theory. 

The  men  caviled  on  at  each  other  endlessly, 
disputing,  denying,  upbraiding,  and  once  in  a 
while  coming  to  blows. 

In  order  to  keep  any  sort  of  discipline,  Leon 
ard  and  Caradoc  kept  to  themselves  under  a 
separate  awning,  for  all  sea-faring  experience 
has  shown  that  a  separation  of  officers  and  men 
is  necessary  for  the  management  of  sailors. 

However,  Madden  heard  most  of  the  argu 
ments  that  went  on  under  the  men's  canvas, 
and  he  became  convinced  that  the  sailor  was 
right;  the  evening  breeze  would  carry  the 
schooner  away  from  the  dock.  He  measured 
the  long  distance  through  the  sea  lanes  from 
dock  to  schooner  with  his  eyes. 

"  Caradoc,"  he  said  to  his  friend,  "  if  we  ever 
reach  that  vessel  now's  our  time." 

"How  do  you  hope  to  do  it?" 

For  answer  Madden  turned  to  the  men. 
"Mulcher,  bring  me  a  life  buoy,  will  you?" 


SAIL  HO!  105 

Mulcher  arose  and  started  on  his  errand. 

Caradoc  stared.  "  You  don't  intend  to  swim 
that  distance  —  through  this  heat?" 

"  There's  a  boat  over  there,  and  provisions, 
perhaps." 

"And  the  crew?" 

"  It  is  quite  possible  that  they  sleep  through 
the  day  which  is  utterly  becalmed  and  make 
some  little  headway  at  night  with  the  slight 
evening  and  morning  breezes  —  it  would  be  a 
task  for  a  sailing  vessel  to  work  herself  out 
of  the  Sargasso." 

"  Why  I  never  thought  of  that.  I  suppose 
it  is  possible." 

Mulcher  was  returning  with  a  buoy.  The 
crew  came  forward  behind  the  navvy,  on  the 
qui  vive  over  this  new  undertaking. 

"  Faith,  and  hadn't  ye  betther  sind  one  o'  th' 
min,  sir,"  suggested  Hogan,  "  an  if  he  drowns, 
sir,  Oi  would  take  it  to  be  a  sign  that  it's  a 
dangerous  swim." 

"  An'  the  sharks,  Meester  Madden,"  warned 
Deschaillon. 

As  Madden  kicked  off  his  clothes,  he  observed 
Caradoc  stripping  likewise.  Then  Farnol  Greer 


106      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

came  running  down  the  deck  with  another  buoy 
and  a  big  clasp  knife. 

The  American  looked  at  these  fellows.  "  Car- 
adoc,  you  can't  possibly  hold  out  that  distance; 
you're  weak." 

"  I've  done  ten  miles  in  —  at  home." 

Greer  said  nothing,  but  rapidly  undressed. 

All  three  kept  on  their  hats  and  undershirts 
as  protection  against  sunburn.  As  Madden 
walked  from  the  awning  through  the  stinging 
sun  rays,  crimping  up  his  naked  feet  from  the 
blistering  deck,  Galton  called  to  him. 

"  If  we  git  a  lot  of  grub,  sir,  couldn't  it  be 
hextra,  and  carn't  we  'ave  a  spread  to-night, 
sir?" 

"  Something  like  that,"  agreed  Madden,  toss 
ing  his  buoy  into  the  water.  The  two  other 
swimmers  followed  example,  then  all  three  dived 
off  the  twelve  foot  pontoon  toward  their  floats. 
They  came  up  shaking  the  water  from  ears  and 
eyes.  Madden  was  immersed  in  tepid  water. 
His  men  were  cheering  stolidly.  The  schooner 
looked  very,  very  far  away  now  that  he  was  at 
the  surface  of  the  water.  Between  him  and  his 
goal  streaked  mazes  of  sargassum.  It  suddenly 


SAIL  HOI  107 

struck  the  American  that  he  might  have  trouble 
getting  through  those  barriers. 

However,  the  three  swimmers  were  progress 
ing  boldly. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  CUL  DE  SAC 

Madden  thrust  head  and  shoulders  into  his 
float,  a  round  canvas-covered  hoop  of  cork,  and 
set  off  at  an  easy  stroke.  Now  that  he  was 
flat  on  the  water,  he  could  no  longer  see  the 
lanes  of  seaweed,  and  he  would  be  forced  to 
depend  entirely  upon  signals  from  the  dock. 

Alongside  Madden  came  Greer,  and  after 
them  Caradoc.  Like  all  Americans,  Leonard 
gradually  increased  his  energy,  and  forged 
ahead  at  a  rate  considerably  faster  than  that 
required  for  long  distance  swimming.  Once  or 
twice  Caradoc  warned  the  swimmers  to  go  more 
slowly,  and  at  each  monition  Madden  slowed 
up  a  trifle,  but  within  a  few  minutes  he  would 
again  speed  up  unconsciously. 

The  three  swimmers  could  form  little  idea  of 
the  rate  they  were  making  in  the  lifeless  sea. 
At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  when  Leonard 

108 


THE  CUL  DE  SAC  109 

looked  back  at  Hogan  on  the  wall  for  signals, 
the  dock  still  loomed  above  him,  a  vast  glare 
of  red  in  the  dazzling  sunshine.  It  seemed 
impossible  to  get  away  from  it;  the  featureless 
red  flare  followed  him  as  a  mountain  peak  seems 
to  follow  a  traveler. 

The  sun  beat  oppressively  on  his  head  and 
blistered  his  shoulders  through  his  net  under 
shirt.  The  warm  water  soaked  the  energy  out 
of  limbs  and  arms.  He  changed  from  breast 
to  over-arm  stroke,  then  he  shifted  to  the  crawl 
and  trudgen  stroke. 

"Perhaps  we'd  better  rest  awhile,  sir,"  sug 
gested  Greer,  who  came  puffing  close  behind. 

"  Beastly  hot,  this  sun,"  Leonard  ducked  head 
and  shoulders  under  water  for  relief.  His  hat 
floated  off  and  he  grudged  the  slight  effort  to 
retrieve  it. 

"How  far  are  we?" 

"Dock  looks  as  close  as  ever  —  where's 
Smith?" 

Greer  nodded  toward  a  small  head  and  shoul 
ders  bobbing  behind  a  little  white  buoy. 

At  that  moment,  they  heard  the  Englishman's 
voice  calling,  "To  the  right!" 


110     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY.  DOCK 

.  >     • 

'  ••  5,     a    .V     .««.•• 

The  boys  turned  and  struck  out  ahead  once 
more.  They  regretted  having  to  leave  the 
straight  line.  As  far  as  they  could  see  there 
was  no  algae  in  sight,  the  water  was  one  glassy 
blue.  And  the  mysterious  schooner,  with  its 
lights  and  shadows  exaggerated  in  the  tropical 
glare,  seemed  to  the  tired  swimmers  to  be  as 
remote  as  ever. 

As  Madden  pressed  on  and  on,  changing 
strokes  after  the  fashion  of  tiring  swimmers, 
the  constant  beat  of  the  sun  made  his  eyeballs 
ache;  the  ocean  felt  like  a  Turkish  bath;  tHe 
muscles  in  his  shoulders,  back  and  legs  grew 
numb,  with  an  occasional  cramping  twinge. 
And  what  irritated  him  as  much  as  anything 
else  was  the  fact  that  he  was  swimming  toward 
the  right  quarter  of  the  schooner,  throwing 
away  his  energy. 

Just  then  Caradoc  gave  a  distant  call,  "To 
the  left" 

With  deep  relief,  Madden  rounded  back 
toward  his  goal.  He  had  swung  about  some 
unseen  cape  of  algae.  He  looked  back  toward 
the  dock.  Hogan,  a  very  tiny  figure,  held  his 
flag  straight  up ;  that  meant  "  dead  ahead/' 


THE  CUL  DE  SAC  111 

In  relief  Madden  turned  over  on  his  back, 
laid  his  hat  across  his  face,  then  with  hands 
resting  on  chest,  he  began  sculling  along  with 
knees  and  feet. 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  swam  in  this 
fashion.  Queer  ideas  drifted  through  the  lad's 
mind.  He  recalled  standing  on  the  bridge  of 
the  dock  as  it  went  out  of  the  Thames  and 
wondering  what  would  happen.  He  had  never 
anticipated  anything  like  this.  It  seemed  that 
he  had  been  swimming  for  days  and  weeks. 
He  reminded  himself  of  those  little  kicking  toys 
that  never  get  anywhere.  He  felt  as  if  he  were 
a  June  bug  buzzing  helplessly  at  the  end  of  a 
string.  He  kicked,  kicked,  kicked  under  the 
broiling  sun,  in  the  hot  water.  The  sweaty 
smell  of  his  hat  band  disgusted  his  nostrils. 
The  crown  of  his  hat  seemed  to  coop  the  heat 
over  his  face,  sweat  seeped  into  his  closed  eye 
lids  and  stung  his  eyes.  He  gave  his  head  a 
little  shake.  The  buoy  slipped  out  and  he 
bobbed  under  the  tepid  water  head  and  ears. 

This  jerked  him  out  of  his  dreamy  state. 
He  whirled  over,  struck  to  the  surface,  spat  out 
brine,  blinked  his  eyes.  Somebody  was  shout- 


112      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

ing  something  in  an  urgent  voice.  The  noise 
buzzed  in  his  waterlogged  ears. 

"Hey,  hello!  What  is  it?"  he  cried,  giving 
his  head  a  shake  and  putting  on  his  hat. 

"  School  of  sharks ! "  shouted  Greer,  coming 
toward  his  leader  at  a  foamy  speed. 

"  School  of  sharks ! "  echoed  Madden  with  a 
sharp  thrill.  "Where?  Which  way?" 

"  Must  be  toward  the  dock,  sir !  "  panted  Greer 
driving  up. 

"Where's  Caradoc?" 

"Yonder."  He  pointed  toward  a  distant 
twinkle  in  the  water. 

"We  must  get  together  —  yell  to  him,  warn 
him!" 

The  two  lads  began  a  strenuous  chorus  that 
further  used  up  their  exhausted  strength.  Car 
adoc  responded  by  a  wave  of  his  hand.  Then 
when  he  understood  "sharks"  he  gathered 
speed  in  their  direction. 

By  this  time  the  dock  seemed  as  far  away  as 
the  schooner,  and  was  in  reality  probably  far 
ther.  On  the  wall  of  the  dock,  they  could  see 
Hogan's  microscopic  figure  apparently  having  a 
fit,  against  the  coppery  sky.  No  doubt  from  his 


THE  CUL  DE  SAC  113 

height  he  could  make  out  the  monsters.  Per 
haps  Hogan  could  see  the  great  fish  shooting 
along  with  sinister,  exertionless  ease  toward 
these  clumsy  adventurers  —  a  school  of  trout 
striking  at  three  awkward  beetles. 

"  Hey,  Caradoc !  Caradoc !  "  screamed  Mad 
den.  "  Straight  for  the  schooner !  "  The  Amer 
ican  stared  around  with  tense  nerves  for  the 
little  swishes  on  the  surface  that  betray  the 
attack  of  a  shark. 

From  something  near  middle  distance,  the 
Englishman  raised  a  hand  toward  his  comrades 
and  motioned  them  forward. 

"  Go  on!  Go  on!  "  he  gasped  in  a  tired  voice. 
"I'll  catch  you!" 

Indeed,  there  was  little  to  be  gained  from 
waiting.  Caradoc  moved  toward  his  friends 
with  a  long  overhand  stroke  that  gave  him  the 
queer  appearance  of  some  huge  water  bug  strid 
ing  along.  Madden  and  Greer  propelled  them 
selves  slowly  toward  the  schooner,  waiting  for 
their  friend  to  close  up.  They  could  not  keep 
their  eyes  off  the  Englishman.  Every  moment 
they  expected  to  see  him  jerked  under,  or  they 
expected  to  see  a  huge  shadowy  form  strike  at 


114      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

themselves    through    the    clear    green    water. 

Once  Madden  looked  at  the  dock.  Hogan  on 
the  rim  of  the  red  flaring  wall  was  flinging  out 
all  kinds  of  despairing  gestures. 

By  this  time  Caradoc  was  in  hailing  distance. 

"Did  you  say  sharks?"  he  called  out  in  a 
dull  voice. 

"Yes,  sharks!" 

"Where  a  way?" 

"Don't  know!" 

At  that  moment  a  trickling  thrill  went 
through  the  American.  A  long  dark  motionless 
shadow  lay  in  the  water  straight  in  front  of 
him.  He  stopped  swimming  suddenly. 

"  Stop,  Greer !  Straight  ahead !  "  he  warned 
in  a  low  tone,  easing  himself  carefully  up  on 
his  buoy  for  a  better  look. 

By  this  time  the  swimmers  were  nearly 
together  and  all  three  stared  ahead  with  painful 
intentness, 

"That  dark  thing?"  inquired  Greer  in  an 
undertone. 

"Yes,  we  ought  to  have  a  knife  apiece." 

"  I  never  saw  a  shark  lying  still,"  panted 
Caradoc  straining  his  eyes. 


THE  CUL  DE  SAC  115 

"Say,  that's  a  little  streak  of  seaweed/' 
decided  Farnol,  beginning  to  move  toward  it. 

Then  all  three  perceived  it  was  merely  sea 
weed.  The  shark-like  illusion  disappeared  com 
pletely  the  moment  someone  doubted  it. 

"Who  cried  out  sharks  anyway?"  demanded 
Smith  of  Madden. 

"  Greer  there  warned  me  —  he  yelled  'school 
of  sharks/  " 

"  Where  did  you  see  them?  "  inquired  Caradoc 
of  Farnol. 

"  You  shouted  school  of  sharks  to  me  your 
self,"  defended  Greer. 

"  I !  I ! "  puffed  Caradoc,  whose  spurt  had 
blown  him  badly.  "  I  said  nothing  about 
sharks!" 

"  Well,  what  did  you  say?  "  demanded  Greer, 

Caradoc  thought  back  fretfully.  "  I  said  we 
were  running  into  a  cut  de  sac." 

"A  cool  de  sock!"  repeated  Greer  with  irri 
tation.  "  What  did  you  want  to  say  *  cool  de 
sock'  for?" 

"  I  was  calling  to  a  gentleman,"  panted  Smith 
with  an  edge  of  temper  in  his  tone,  "  and  here 
you've  swung  us  clear  off  our  bearings  because 


116      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

you  didn't  know  a  common  French  phrase " 

"French!  I'm  no  Frenchman!  Why  don't 
you  talk  English!" 

The  two  tired,  worried,  overheated  men  were 
rapidly  brewing  a  quarrel,  when  Madden  inter 
rupted. 

"  Look  how  close  we  are  to  that  schooner ! 
If  somebody  would  raise  another  shark  alarm, 
we'd  land  plump  on  her  decks." 

"  Yes,  but  this  Zulu  here  has  run  us  straight 
into  a  loop  of  seaweed  it'll  take  two  hours' 
swimming  to  get  out  of  —  cut  de  sac,  school  of 
sharks !  Why  the  two  phrases  scarcely  resemble 
each  other ! " 

Madden  turned  longing  eyes  toward  the 
motionless  schooner  that  was  not  more  than 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  distant.  "  Say,  it's  too 
bad  to  turn  around  and  swim  away  from  that 
vessel ! "  he  lamented  wearily,  "  and  this  sun  is 
fierce!" 

"  I  say  let's  try  going  through ! "  encouraged 
Greer. 

"  It'll  be  —  difficult,"  warned  Caradoc. 

"  Won't  swimming  clear  around  the  earth  be 
difficult?"  demanded  Greer  hotly. 


THE  CUL  DE  SAC  117 

"  Proceed,"  agreed  Caradoc  tersely.  "  It's 
all  one  to  me." 

The  boys  adjusted  their  floats  and  once  more 
began  their  weary  labor,  all  three  disgruntled 
at  the  false  alarm.  As  they  worked  their  way 
forward,  clumps  of  seaweed,  similar  to  the  first 
they  had  seen,  thickened  in  their  path.  After  a 
long  swim  in  and  out,  they  reached  a  point 
where  these  floating  masses  coalesced  into  an 
island,  or  a  continent,  that  swung  far  back 
toward  the  barge  in  the  segment  of  a  great 
semicircle.  Fortunately  there  were  still  open 
channels  in  this  main  field,  and  one  of  them 
led  toward  the  schooner.  They  struck  out  up 
this  estuary,  which  presently  became  so  narrow 
that  they  were  forced  to  travel  single  file. 
Occasionally  their  kicking  feet  would  strike 
slimy  filaments  in  the  water,  but  for  a  while 
the  channel  cheered  the  swimmers,  for  they 
could  now  see  they  were  making  progress  toward 
the  ship. 

Ten  minutes  later,  however,  they  reached  the 
end,  and  an  inexorable  continent  of  slime  lay 
between  them  and  their  goal.  Madden  paused 
in  the  last  yard  of  clear  water,  hung  to  his 


118      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

buoy,  his  big  biceps  flattened  on  the  canvas  cover 
and  slowly  blistering  in  the  sun. 

"All  right,  boys,  close  up,"  he  panted;  "let's 
stay  in  helping  distance  of  each  other." 

"  Shall  we  try  to  take  our  buoys  through, 
sir?"  inquired  Greer. 

"  We'll  start  with  them." 

"  Don't  try  to  use  your  legs  in  the  weed," 
warned  Caradoc.  "Don't  kick;  you'll  get 
tangled." 

"  We'll  experiment  and  work  through  the  best 
way  we  can.  If  it  turns  out  too  bad,  we  can 
turn  back,  that's  one  consolation." 

Just  then,  under  Madden's  astonished  eyes,  a 
queer  thing  happened.  The  long  open  tongue 
of  the  sea  which  they  had  just  entered,  silently 
closed  up.  It  seemed  to  close  very  slowly,  and 
yet  it  was  accomplished  in  an  amazingly  brief 
time.  Some  dull  movement  in  the  Sargasso 
current  had  blocked  the  adventurers  with  sinis 
ter  precision.  Madden  felt  the  hot  slimy  mass 
close  softly  around  him. 

It  was  now  as  easy  to  go  forward  as  to 
return. 


CHAPTER  VII 
TRAPPED 

There  was  something  so  sinister  in  this  silent 
closing  of  all  avenue  of  retreat  that  for  a 
moment  Madden  was  dismayed,  then  he  struck 
out  toward  the  schooner  with  a  certain  bold 
weariness. 

As  an  experiment  he  threw  his  buoy  ahead 
of  him  by  a  snap  of  wrist  and  forearm,  then 
tried  to  swim  to  it.  The  long  yielding  growth 
slid  under  and  around  him,  but  it  took  all  the 
dash  out  of  his  stroke.  He  pawed  his  way 
forward  with  his  arms,  legs  stretched  out  idle. 
A  thousand  wet  sticky  fingers  dragged  their 
length  over  his  body,  retarding,  clogging,  hold 
ing  him.  It  left  him  stranded  like  a  bug  in 
gelatine.  His  flesh  crawled  at  this  slimy  swim 
ming,  he  shrank  from  it,  and  it  sapped  his 
heart  and  strength. 

The  only  stroke  possible  was  the  overarm,  and 

119 


120      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

his  hands  fell  with  a  gummy  plop  instead  of  the 
heartsome  splash  of  open  water.  By  the  time 
he  reached  his  buoy  and  threw  it  again,  he 
regretted  miserably  that  he  had  not  swum  the 
clean  water  route  if  it  were  five  miles  farther. 

By  the  time  he  had  thrown  his  buoy  twice, 
he  could  hardly  advance  it  a  yard  beyond  his 
reach ;  finally  it  simply  slushed  along  the  surface. 
The  sun  seemed  much  hotter  in  this  congestion 
than  in  the  open  sea. 

Behind  him  came  his  two  men  in  a  queer 
snakelike  procession  of  plopping  buoys  and 
wriggling  bodies.  Ahead  of  them  the  seaweed 
stretched,  apparently  all  the  way  to  the  schooner. 
As  they  worked  their  way  through  the  scum 
of  many  seas,  the  noon  sun  broiled  their  backs 
into  thin  water  blisters,  and  stewed  saline  odors 
out  of  the  clammy  life  about  them. 

Once  Madden's  hand  struck  a  yellowish  line 
of  algae  and  a  score  or  two  of  little  jelly-like 
insects  writhed  into  the  grass  below.  One  of 
these  things  touched  the  swimmer's  arm  and 
gave  the  boy  a  stinging  sensation.  He  knocked 
it  off  desperately  and  pushed  on. 

Presently    his    shoulder    muscles    ached    and 


TRAPPED  121 

burned  so  keenly,  he  could  no  longer  continue 
the  overarm.  Then  he  took  the  buoy  in  both 
hands,  held  it  straight  out,  thrust  it  edge  down 
into  the  oozy  substance,  used  it  as  a  kind  of 
anchor  and  drew  it  to  him.  At  first  this  tech 
nique  seemed  to  advance  him  somewhat,  but 
presently  he  appeared  merely  to  disturb  the 
viscous  mass  without  going  forward.  He  grew 
acutely  discouraged;  his  back,  shoulders, 
cramped,  ached  and  burned.  The  brilliantly 
lighted  schooner  seemed  to  regress  as  he  pro 
gressed.  The  sun  was  like  an  auger  boring  into 
the  back  of  his  head.  His  mind  began  to  wander 
again,  and  a  sudden  fear  came  on  him  lest  he 
should  go  insane  out  in  this  horrible  slime. 

A  fiery  burning  on  his  right  foot  jerked  him 
back  out  of  his  half  delirium,  and  he  knew  that 
an  insect  of  the  same  kind  he  had  seen  a  few 
minutes  before  had  stung  him.  He  kicked  it  off 
convulsively,  but  the  thrust  of  his  foot  brought 
a  wash  of  new  stings. 

All  of  a  sudden,  his  patience,  endurance,  pluck 
seemed  to  give  out.  This  new  torture  made  him 
as  unreasonably  frantic  as  a  baby.  He  kicked 
furiously.  He  scraped  the  toe  nails  of  one  foot 


122      CRUISE  OP  THE  DRY  DOCK 

against  the  flesh  of  the  other  leg.  As  he  did 
so  the  animalculae  settled  on  the  abraded  skin, 
like  streaks  of  melted  steel.  The  boy  doubled 
up,  like  a  grub  worm  covered  with  ants,  fighting, 
scraping,  twisting,  squirming.  He  writhed, 
beat,  scratched,  this  great  hundred  and  sixty 
pound  animal  fighting  an  enemy  that  would 
weigh  about  twenty  to  the  gram. 

He  heard  a  shout  from  Caradoc,  a  question 
from  Greer,  then  his  insane  struggles  carried 
him  under  the  surface  of  the  clammy  seaweed. 
The  seaweed,  infested  with  stinging  insects, 
closed  over  his  form  like  a  wave  of  fife. 

Only  lack  of  breath  stopped  Leonard's  mad 
struggles.  Bursting  lungs  and  the  mere  neces 
sity  to  live  at  last  made  him  disregard  the 
attacks  of  these  wasps  of  the  Sargasso.  He 
struck  out  for  the  surface  again  like  a  diver, 
reaching  up  arms,  spreading  legs  with  a  stroke 
and  a  kick.  But  the  gelatinous  stuff  simply 
quivered  with  his  struggles  and  held  him  firm. 
He  stuck  like  a  fly  in  mucilage. 

The  sliminess  of  the  element  utterly  destroyed 
the  mechanics  of  swimming.  A  forward  stroke 
in  pure  water  displaces  portions  of  the  water 


TRAPPED  123 

and  the  return  stroke  sends  the  body  forward. 
In  this  mass  the  forward  stroke  merely  com 
pressed  the  weed  in  front  of  the  arm,  and  left 
a  cavity  through  which  the  return  stroke  re 
ceived  no  power. 

Madden  dared  not  open  his  eyes.  In  fiery 
blackness  he  kicked  and  struck  in  useless  frog- 
like  movements.  His  heart  was  beating  like  a 
trip-hammer  in  his  ears.  Streaks  of  red  fire 
played  against  the  blackness  of  his  eyelids.  He 
knew  that  in  a  few  more  seconds  his  straining 
lungs  would  gulp  in  the  stinging  ooze,  he  knew 
his  will  could  not  prevent  his  drawing  in  some 
sort  of  breath. 

He  clung  desperately  to  the  control  of  his 
diaphragm,  as  a  falling  man  clings  to  a  ledge 
of  rock.  His  great  chest  muscles  gave  con 
vulsive  jerks.  His  control  was  going,  going. 

Suddenly  a  human  hand  gripped  his  wrist. 
He  was  jerked  upwards,  perhaps  a  foot.  A 
moment  later  he  was  gulping  in  great  lungfuls 
of  air. 

He  had  been  suffocating  ten  or  twelve  inches 
beneath  that  repulsive  slime,  as  securely  cap 
tured  as  if  he  had  been  a  thousand  feet  deep. 


124      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

It  had  taken  Greer  and  Smith  that  length  of 
time  to  wriggle  a  yard  or  two  and  fish  him  out. 

"  Steady!  Steady!  "  said  Caradoc  in  a  lifeless 
voice.  "  Steady  there,  Madden !  Hold  him 
tightly,  Greer!" 

Greer  made  some  sort  of  groaning  reply, 
when  Caradoc  snarled,  "  Let  Jem  sting,  you 
scullion!  What  if  they  do  kill  you!  Is  there 
any  better  way  to  die?" 

Madden  felt  a  great  pushing  and  jostling 
at  his  body.  He  raked  the  seaweed  from  his 
face  and  opened  his  eyes.  The  Englishman  was 
shoving  fiercely  at  the  American's  shoulder, 
Greer,  ahead,  pulling  at  an  elbow.  The  burning 
insects  had  swarmed  on  both  his  rescuers. 
Caradoc's  sun-baked  face  had  a  yellowish,  blood 
less  hue,  his  lean  jaws  clenched  under  his  choppy 
white  mustache.  In  the  midst  of  his  burning 
pain  he  held  his  legs  rigid,  pushed  Leonard  with 
one  hand  and  pawed  furiously  through  the  viscid 
tangle  with  the  other. 

The  constancy  of  his  companions  braced  Mad 
den  like  a  dash  of  ice  water.  His  own  weakness 
had  brought  about  this  dangerous  plight.  The 
American  caught  up  his  buoy,  and  between  great 


TRAPPED  125 

gasps  of  the  blessed  air,  rapped  out  that  he 
could  go  by  himself,  and  began  making  his  own 
way  forward. 

So  the  three  worked  themselves  over  the  oozy 
bed  of  fire.  The  Englishman's  arms  shot  into 
the  slime  with  the  regularity  of  pistons.  He 
appeared  to  make  no  haste,  yet  he  made  remark 
able  speed.  Only  his  distended  nostrils,  pain- 
tightened  mouth,  grim  eyes,  showed  that  he  was 
in  torture. 

Even  amid  his  own  suffering  Leonard  felt 
a  thrill  of  admiration  for  Smith's  endurance 
and  working  power.  He  even  found  time  to 
wonder  dimly  if  Smith's  people,  that  rich,  cold, 
proud  family,  if  they  could  see  their  remittance 
man  now,  would  not  stoop  to  claim  him  as  a 
kinsman. 

All  at  once  the  poignant  and  disgusting  attack 
of  the  insects  ceased.  A  flood  of  ecstatic  relief 
swept  over  the  adventurers.  Without  a  word, 
all  three  quit  squirming,  caught  their  floats 
under  their  armpits  and  swung  down  in  a  limp 
luxurious  rest. 

Then  they  saw  a  marvelous  thing  had  hap 
pened.  The  same  slow  swirl  of  the  Sargasso 


126      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

current  that  had  closed  up  their  avenue  on  the 
west  side,  had  opened  another  on  the  east.  Their 
way  toward  the  schooner  lay  unobstructed. 

The  clean  delightful  seawater  soothed  the 
pain  of  their  stinging  flesh. 

"  We'll  be  there  in  fifteen  minutes,"  murmured 
Leonard  weakly. 

"When  you're  ready,  say  so,"  said  Greer 
with  a  frown  still  lingering  on  his  heavy  face. 

At  that  moment  Madden  heard  a  groan  from 
Caradoc. 

"What's  the  matter?"  aspirated  the  Amer 
ican. 

"  Nothing  —  weak  —  don't  bother."  He  closed 
his  eyes,  blew  out  his  breath  like  a  sick  man. 
His  face  was  bloodlessly  sallow,  and  Madden 
could  see  his  grip  slipping  on  the  canvas  buoy. 

"  You're  all  in !  "  gasped  Madden  in  exhausted 
staccato.  "  I  knew  you  oughtn't  to  —  aren't 
you  about  to  faint  again?  " 

The  Englishman  shook  his  head  slightly. 
"  Don't  worry,"  he  murmured,  then  his  eyes 
closed,  his  hands  slipped  loose. 

With  brusque  directness,  Madden  caught  the 
shock  of  tawny  hair,  jammed  Caradoc's  chin 


TRAPPED  127 

against  the  buoy  and  held  him  tight  with  little 
exertion  for  himself.  Smith  swung  out  as  awk 
wardly  as  a  turkey  on  a  chopping  block.  The 
water  was  level  with  his  lips,  but  his  nose  did 
not  go  under. 

"Petered  at  last,"  grunted  Madden,  staring 
at  the  corpselike  face  in  dull  speculation.  "  How 
in  the  world  are  we  going  to  get  him  out  of 
here?" 

"  I  guess  we  can  tow  him  out,  sir,"  growled 
Greer  with  dull  indifference.  "  Mighty  puny 
chap  —  always  flopping  over  when  he's  in  a  tight 
place." 

"  Come  here,  stick  his  arms  through  our 
buoys,  put  his  own  under  his  head!" 

The  plan  was  quickly  carried  out  and  Smith's 
unconscious  form  was  placed  beyond  immediate 
danger. 

The  two  youths  took  up  their  long  swim  once 
more.  As  they  moved  down  the  opening,  they 
could  see  what  slow  progress  they  were  making. 
Presently  Madden  explained  in  a  low  whispering 
tone: 

"His  heart's  bad  .  .  .  can't  stand  much 
.  .  .  poisoned  with  alcohol." 


128      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Another  pause  filled  with  slow  weary  swim 
ming,  then  Greer  said: 

"  Said  I  was  no  gentleman  .  .  .  didn't 
know  a  French  word  ...  I  keep  sober." 

Madden  made  no  defense  to  this  reflection 
on  the  unconscious  Englishman,  but  after  a 
while  he  said: 

'  We  ought  to  overlook  lots  in  him,  Greer  — 
unfortunate  fellow  .  .  .  there's  good  in  him, 
Greer  .  .  .  bad  too." 

"  I've  got  no  call  to  please  you,"  growled  the 
sailor  with  astonishing  frankness. 

"  Then  why  did  you  come  with  us?  "  inquired 
Madden  amazed. 

"  Wanted  to  see  the  schooner." 

"  And  what  have  /  done  to  you?  " 

"  Called  me  a  thief ! "  the  sailor  elevated  his 
dull  tone.  "  After  I  telegraphed  ye  about  th' 
men  .  .  .  fought  for  ye  ...  called  me  a 
thief!" 

"Was  that  you  tapping  on  the  dock?" 

Greer  nodded  resentfully.  "  And  ye  insulted 
me  for  it." 

"  I'm  sorry  ...  I  was  almost  wild  that  night. 
I'll  apologize  .  .  .  before  the  crew." 


TRAPPED  129 

"  I  don't  care  nothing  about  that  dull  English 
crew."  This  strange  fellow's  tone  carried  in  it 
an  illiterate  man's  undying  resentment. 

"  Since  you  feel  that  way,"  panted  Madden 
at  last,  "  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  —  he  took 
the  medicine  chest,"  Leonard  nodded  at  the 
finely  carved  motionless  face  that  lay  on  the 
float  before  them. 

"Him!"  gasped  Greer. 

Leonard  nodded.  "  He  wanted  the  alcohol 
in  it." 

"  And  you  call  him  a  gentleman?  " 

Leonard  nodded  again.  "  Somehow;  I  still 
call  him  a  gentleman.  He's  hurt,  sick,  bruised, 
but  he's  a  gentleman." 

"Well  I  don't!" 

At  that  moment,  the  buoy  under  Caradoc's 
head  bumped  into  a  wooden  wall  and  upset  their 
swimming  arrangements. 

They  were  under  the  overhang  of  the  mys 
terious  schooner. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  MYSTERY  SHIP 

Waves  from  the  exhausted  swimmers  sent 
bright  streaks  of  watershine  wavering  up  the 
green  hull  over  Madden's  head.  Utter  silence 
pervaded  the  vessel.  There  was  no  creaking 
of  spar  or  block.  Hot  tar  stood  in  her  seams 
in  the  beating  sunshine. 

The  boys  kicked  wearily  through  the  tepid 
water  to  the  schooner's  prow,  where  Greer  suc 
ceeded  in  catching  the  bobstays  and  climbing 
aboard.  A  little  later  he  lowered  a  rope  to 
Madden  with  a  double  bight  in  it.  The  Yankee 
made  the  Englishman  fast  in  the  loops,  climbed 
on  deck  himself  and  helped  haul  the  unconscious 
fellow  aboard. 

The  two  boys  lugged  the  senseless  man 
wearily  across  deck  into  the  shade  of  the  super 
structure,  then  in  default  of  any  better  restora 
tive,  Leonard  began  slapping  the  bottom  of  the 

130 


THE  MYSTERY  SHIP  131 

Englishman's  feet  to  revive  him.  Presently 
Caradoc  groaned,  drew  up  his  legs. 

"  He's  coming  around  all  right,"  said  Greer, 
then  he  looked  about  him.  "  What  do  you  make 
out  of  this  anyway,  Mr.  Madden?  " 

Leonard  glanced  around  and  did  see  a  remark 
able  derelict.  The  schooner  was  as  newly 
painted  and  trig  as  if  fresh  from  the  ways. 
Her  deck  was  holystoned  to  man-o'-war  cleanli 
ness  ;  every  sheet,  hawser,  stay,  tackle,  pin,  spike, 
was  in  place.  Three  small  boats,  her  full  com 
plement,  hung  in  davits.  On  the  bow  of  these 
boats,  on  their  oars  and  buoys,  was  painted  the 
name  of  the  schooner,  "  Minnie  B." 

From  the  port  side  of  the  vessel  there 
stretched  a  long  cable  patently  leading  to  a  sea 
anchor.  All  sails  were  brailed  except  mains'l 
and  tops'l,  which  were  reefed  and  set  against 
each  other  to  hold  her  steady  in  case  of  a  blow. 
The  funnel  was  freshly  painted  black  with  a 
red  band  at  the  top.  Judging  from  her  appear 
ance,  the  desertion  of  the  Minnie  B  had  been 
carefully  planned.  Yet  why  desert  a  new 
vessel?  By  what  means  did  the  crew  leave  the 
schooner,  since  all  her  small  boats  remained? 


132      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

What  was  their  motive  in  anchoring  the  Minnie 
B  in  the  middle  of  the  Sargasso? 

There  appeared  to  be  no  easy  answer  to  these 
questions. 

"  I  don't  understand  this,"  said  Greer,  in 
answer  to  Madden's  unspoken  perplexity. 
"  Where  did  the  crew  go,  sir,  and  how  did  they 
go?" 

"  They  might  have  deserted  her  for  her  insur 
ance,"  suggested  Madden  tentatively. 

"  Then  why  didn't  they  scuttle  her  —  besides, 
a  new  vessel  like  this  is  worth  more  than  her 
insurance." 

"  Maybe  it  was  her  cargo.  Perhaps  they 
faked  it,  rated  it  away  above  its  value." 

"  Why  she  has  no  cargo,  sir.  She's  riding 
light  as  a  skiff;  I  noticed  that  as  I  climbed  up." 

"Then  what  is  your  idea?"  inquired  the 
American. 

Greer  glanced  around  with  a  trace  of  uneasi 
ness.  "The  crew  went  by  the  board,  sir,  I'm 
thinking." 

"  Overboard  —  all  washed  overboard !  Why 
there  isn't  one  chance  in  a  million  of  such  a 
thing  hap " 


THE  MYSTERY  SHIP  133 

"  I  didn't  say  '  washed  overboard/  sir,"  cor 
rected  Greer  heavily.  "  I  think  they  got  throwed 
overboard,  one  by  one,  sir." 

"  One  by  one !  "  Madden  stared  at  the  solemn 
faced  fellow. 

Farnol  nodded  stolidly.     "Just  so,  sir." 

"  You  mean ?" 

"The  plague,  sir." 

"  O-oh ! "  The  American  stared  around  the 
deck  with  new  eyes.  Greer's  explanation  struck 
home  with  a  certain  convincingness.  The  mere 
thought  of  disease-laden  surroundings  filled  him 
with  alarm.  Could  they  have  unwittingly  wan 
dered  into  a  deserted  pest-ship?  A  focus  of 
death  in  these  rotting  seas?  The  very  air  he 
breathed,  the  wood  he  touched,  might  inoculate 
him  with  malignant  germs.  Then  he  began 
reasoning  on  it. 

"  Even  if  it  were  the  plague,  there  ought  to 
be  someone  left  aboard,  Greer,  a  last  corpse." 
The  American  sniffed  the  hot,  breathless,  tar- 
scented  air. 

"  He  could  well  have  gone  crazy,  sir,  in  this 
heat  and  followed  his  mates  overboard  —  but 
we  can  look  and  see." 


134      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

At  this  moment,  Caradoc  stirred  and  pulled 
himself  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  burning  deck. 

"You  —  you  pulled  me  aboard ?"  he  mur 
mured  weakly,  looking  about  with  the  face  of  a 
corpse. 

"How  do  you  feel  —  anything  I  can  do?" 

"If  I  had  a  dr "  he  broke  off,  drew  a 

long  breath.  "Nobody  aboard?" 

"  If  you're  all  right,  Greer  and  I  will  take 
a  turn  below  and  see  what  we  can  find,"  sug 
gested  Madden. 

Caradoc  nodded  apathetically  and  stared  sea 
ward  toward  the  cable  sagging  into  the  dead 
ocean. 

The  two  boys  moved  gingerly  up  to  the  hatch 
way  that  led  down  to  the  forecastle.  If  disease 
had  smitten  the  Minnie  B  they  hoped  to  get 
some  clew  from  the  taint  of  the  sailors'  quarters. 
Greer  stuck  a  nose  down  the  ladder  first. 
Beyond  the  usual  close  ship  smells  there  seemed 
to  be  nothing  wrong.  Then  they  climbed  down. 

Here  again  they  found  order.  The  bunks 
against  the  bulkheads  and  the  curve  of  the  prow 
were  clean  with  neatly  rolled  blankets.  The 
lockers  were  open  and  empty.  The  two  search- 


THE  MYSTERY  SHIP  135 

ers  climbed  out  and  walked  aft  to  the  lazaret. 
They  were  rapidly  getting  over  their  fright  of 
the  plague.  Again  Greer  entered  first,  and  this 
time  Madden  heard  a  loud  snort  of  disgust. 

Half  expecting  some  sinister  sight,  Madden 
ran  down  the  three  steps  and  entered  the  store 
room.  But  what  had  roused  the  sailor's  dislike 
was  that  the  lazaret  contained  no  provisions. 
It  was  as  empty  as  the  forecastle;  not  a  chest, 
not  a  canister,  not  even  a  spice  box  remained. 
Here  again  the  lockers  were  open  and  empty. 
From  one  of  the  keyholes  hung  a  bunch  of  keys. 
The  steward  had  deserted  his  ring,  knowing  it 
could  never  be  of  service  to  him  again. 

The  little  metal  bunch  hung  straight  down 
without  the  slightest  oscillation.  Such  lack  of 
motion  and  life  amid  the  close  stewing  heat  of 
the  lazaret  threw  a  glamor  of  unreality  over  the 
whole  affair.  The  schooner  might  well  have 
been  warped  to  a  dock  in  some  port  of  the  dead. 
The  very  newness  of  everything  accentuated  its 
amazing  loneliness. 

"  Doesn't  seem  real,  does  it?"  said  Greer  in 
a  low  tone,  drawing  a  long  breath  in  the  heat. 
"I  keep  listening." 


136      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Madden  shook  himself.  "  It  seems  as  if  some 
one  ought  to  be  aboard."  He  broke  away  from 
the  spell :  "  I  wish  they  had  left  us  some  pro 
visions —  we  need  'em." 

The  hot  heavy  silence  fell  immediately  after 
the  remark,  like  a  curtain  that  was  heavy  to  lift. 

"  Let's  look  through  the  hold  and  see  if  there 
isn't  someone  here ! "  suggested  Greer  uneasily. 

With  a  feeling  that  they  were  likely  to  encoun 
ter  some  being,  human  or  spectral,  at  every  turn, 
they  went  below.  The  farther  they  went  the 
more  inexplicable  became  the  Minnie  B's  deser 
tion.  Her  engines  were  in  perfect  order,  her 
furnace  so  new  that  the  grate  bars  were  still 
unsealed  from  heat;  the  maker's  name-plate  was 
still  bright  on  the  boilers ;  her  hull  was  quite  dry, 
with  less  than  six  inches  of  water  in  her  bilge. 
She  had  no  cargo,  except  four  or  five  tons  of  raw 
metal  ingots  used  as  ballast.  The  coal  in  her 
bunkers  was  nearly  exhausted.  Indeed  she  was 
riding  so  light  that  heavy  weather  would  upset 
her  like  a  chip.  It  seemed  as  if  the  crew  had 
looted  the  Minnie  B  in  a  thorough  and  extraor 
dinary  manner,  and  then  had  simply  vanished. 
Every  now  and  then  in  their  search  the  two 


THE  MYSTERY  SHIP  137 

would  find  themselves-  standing  motionless, 
open-mouthed,  listening  intently  to  the  brooding 
silence. 

More  puzzled  than  ever  by  these  explorations, 
the  two  adventurers  climbed  into  the  chart  room. 
Here,  also,  everything  was  intact,  and  in  order. 
In  a  desk  they  found  the  ship's  log  and  clearance 
papers.  The  captain's  and  the  mate's  licenses 
hung  in  frames  against  the  wall.  Near  these 
was  tacked  the  picture  of  a  sunny-haired  little 
girl  and  underneath  it  was  written  the  name 
"  Minnie."  So  the  schooner  was  the  little 
smiling-faced  girl's  namesake,  this  tragedy- 
haunted  abandoned  vessel.  A  Mercator's  pro 
jection  lay  thumb-tacked  on  a  table,  and  the  last 
position  of  the  schooner  was  indicated  by  a  pin 
sticking  in  the  map. 

Madden  moved  over  to  it  eagerly,  hoping  this 
pin  would  give  him  some  inkling  as  to  where  the 
disaster,  if  there  had  been  one,  occurred.  He 
noted  the  latitude  and  longitude  indicated  by 
the  marker,  then  turned  excitedly  to  Greer. 

"  Look  here !  "  he  cried,  "  this  pin  marks  our 
position  at  this  moment.  We  are  right  here !  " 
he  touched  the  point  on  the  map. 


138      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"How  do  you  know  it  does?" 

"  I  calculated  the  dock's  position  this 
morning." 

"Well,  what  of  that?  She  will  probably  lie 
here  till  she  rots  in  this  stagnant  sea." 

"That's  the  point:  This  is  not  a  stagnant 
sea.  There  is  a  current  of  about  six  miles  a  day 
in  the  Sargasso,  very  slow,  but  it  will  change  a 
ship's  reckoning." 

Greer  remained  unimpressed.  "  What  do  you 
make  of  that?" 

"  Make  of  that !  Why,  man,  the  person  who 
took  this  reckoning,  took  it  this  morning!  That's 
the  only  way  he  could  have  got  it.  There  was 
somebody  on  this  schooner  this  morning  when 
we  sighted  her." 

"This  morning!  This  morning!  Where  in 
Davy  Jones'  locker " 

Madden  was  leaning  over  the  chart  scrutiniz 
ing  it  with  careful  eyes.  At  last  he  raised  up 
in  complete  bewilderment. 

"  Farnol,"  he  said  in  a  queer  tone,  "  the  crew 
meant  to  come  here!  Meant  to  sail  through 
the  Sargasso  —  clear  away  from  all  trade  routes 
—  incomprehensible  but  —  just  look!" 


THE  MYSTERY  SHIP  139 

Both  boys  bent  above  the  chart,  and  Madden 
silently  pointed  out  a  row^  of  pin  holes  that 
marked  the  daily  reckonings  of  the  Minnie  B. 
She  had  sailed  from  Portland,  Maine,  had 
swung  up  the  northern  route  past  Newfoundland 
Banks  as  if  going  to  England.  On  this  portion 
of  her  voyage  her  average  run  was  a  little  less 
than  two  hundred  knots  a  day.  On  the  fifth 
day  out,  the  Minnie  B  inexplicably  deserted  the 
normal  trade  course,  turned  from  "  E.NE."  and 
sailed  directly  "  S.SW."  At  the  same  time  her 
speed  was  accelerated  to  a  trifle  over  three  hun 
dred  knots  a  day.  Her  last  reckoning  left  the 
pin  sticking  in  the  exact  longitude  and  latitude 
which  Leonard  had  worked  out  for  the  dock  that 
morning. 

"  They  got  in  a  hurry  when  they  did  turn 
south,"  said  Greer  vacuously. 

"  They  certainly  burned  coal  from  there  to 
here." 

"  But  what  could  have  put  her  in  such  a  rush, 
sir?" 

"  She  must  have  sailed  somewhere  after  a 
cargo,  and  later  received  a  cancellation  of  the 
order.  With  that  cancellation  there  must  have 


140      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

come  a  new  commission  with  a  time  limit,  from 
some  of  the  South  American  ports,  I  should 
judge  by  her  course,  say  Caracas,  or  Para 
maribo." 

"  But  she  has  no  wireless,  sir.  She  couldn't 
have  changed  her  destination." 

"  That  would  be  fairly  easy  to  explain.  There 
are  so  many  fast  liners  with  wireless  between 
New  York  and  Liverpool,  it  would  be  a  simple 
matter  to  get  a  message  signaled  to  a  sailing 
vessel  in  the  trade  route." 

"  But  I  can't  see  why  she  sailed  through  the 
Sargasso?" 

"  If  the  time  factor  had  been  urgent  enough, 
she  might  have  tried  to  shorten  her  journey  by 
coming  this  way  instead  of  following  the  usual 
course  by  Cuba  and  through  the  Caribbean." 

"  That    doesn't    tell    what    happened   to    the 


men." 


Madden  shook  his  head  and  wiped  the  sweat 
from  his  face  on  his  undershirt  sleeve.  "  Let's 
read  the  log.  That  ought  to  clear  up  things 
a  bit." 

Both  lads  hurried  over  to  the  desk,  drew  out 
the  greasy,  well-thumbed  book.  In  their  excite- 


THE  MYSTERY  SHIP  141 

ment,  they  forgot  rank  and  tried  to  read 
together. 

"  Let  me  read  it  aloud/'  compromised  Madden. 

Dripping  with  sweat,  they  leaned  on  the  hot 
desk  and  went  carefully  over  the  log  of  the 
Minnie  B. 

The  record  was  simple.  The  Minnie  B,  of 
Leeds,  England,  sailed  from  Portland,  Maine, 
for  Liverpool  on  July  thirtieth  with  a  cargo  of 
lake  copper  in  bulk  bound  for  Liverpool.  For 
the  first  five  days,  her  log  was  written  in  two 
heavy  unscholarly  hands,  which  alternated  with 
each  other,  and  were  evidently  those  of  the  mate 
and  the  captain.  These  two  handwritings  were 
quite  distinct  from  each  other  and  contained 
the  usual  notes  of  prevailing  winds,  state  of 
weather,  speed,  distance  indicated  by  patent  log, 
dead  reckonings,  vessels  sighted  and  such  like. 

From  the  sixth  to  the  twentieth  day,  the  log 
of  the  Minnie  B  was  written  in  a  sharp,  pointed, 
scholarly  hand,  and  this  record  was  confined  to 
the  mere  relation  of  distances  and  reckonings. 
Then  on  the  twenty-first  day  of  August  there 
appeared  the  following  entry: 

"46°  57'  W.  Long.  27°  24'  11"  N.  Lat.    No 


142      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

wind.  Sargasso  Sea.  Current  9.463  kilometers 
per  24  hrs.  W.SW.  Cast  sea  anchor.  Five 
hundred  tons  ingots  reshipped." 

At  this  statement,  Leonard  turned  and  stared 
at  Greer, 

"  Reshipped !  Reshipped !  Holy  cats,  Farnol ! 
Reshipped  from  here  —  right  here !  "  He  jabbed 
a  finger  downward  to  indicate  the  spot  in  the 
dead  Sargasso  Sea  occupied  by  the  Minnie  B. 

Greer  shook  his  head  dully.  "  But  this  is  all 

the  wildest "  he  made  a  helpless  motion. 

"  You  oughtn't  to  think  about  it,  sir,  or  you'll 
be  going  overboard,  too.  Reshipped!  .  .  . 
This  heat  will  get  anybody  in  time.  .  .  ,  The 
man  who  wrote  that  went  and  jumped  overboard 
the  next  minute  no  doubt.  Reshipped.  ,  t  t 
It  ain't  good  for  us  to  read  it,  sir." 

"  But  something's  gone  with  her  cargo, 
Greer !  "  declared  Madden  vehemently.  "  Some 
thing's  gone  with  it.  I  don't  care  how  crazy  the 
crew  became  they  surely  wouldn't  have  dumped 
a  hold  full  of  copper  into  the  sea.  This  log  says 
'  reshipped '  and  blessed  if  I  don't  believe " 

At  this  moment  the  boys  seemed  to  hear  the 
sound  in  the  deathly  silent  vessel  for  which  their 


THE  MYSTERY.  SHIP  143 

ears  had  been  all  the  time  straining.  Madden 
broke  off  abruptly  and  both  stood  listening  with 
palpitating  hearts.  It  was  repeated.  A  repressed 
half  groan,  inarticulate,  as  if  some  human  being 
were  in  distress.  It  was  in  the  main  cabin  below 
them, 

Hardly  daring  to  guess  at  what  they  would 
see,  the  adventurers  crept  silently  out  of  the 
chart  room,  down  a  short  hot  passageway  to  a 
door,  Leonard  caught  a  breath,  then  opened  it 
without  noise, 

In  the  brilliant  westering  light  that  flooded 
the  main  cabin  through  the  port  holes,  Madden 
saw  a  dining  table,  disordered  as  from  a  recent 
feast.  On  the  floor  around  it  were  fragments 
of  smashed  glasses  and  bloody  stains.  A  cut 
glass  decanter,  half  full  of  wine,  sat  on  the 
table,  and  in  a  corner  of  the  cabin  shrank  the 
figure  of  a  man, 


CHAPTER  IX 
A  MODERN  COLUMBUS 

Hardly  knowing  what  to  expect  the  two 
advanced  into  the  cabin,  when  the  figure  turned 
and  looked  at  them  with  pallid  countenance. 

"  It's  Caradoc!  "  cried  Madden  in  great  aston 
ishment  and  relief.  "  Scots,  Smith,  you  gave 
us  a  jolt !  We  thought  —  what's  the  matter,  old 
chap?  Heat  again?  " 

The  Englishman's  long  face  was  strained. 
"Would  you  —  take  that  decanter  away, 
please ! "  he  begged  unsteadily. 

Instantly  Leonard  understood  the  temptation 
into  which  Caradoc  had  unwittingly  wandered. 
A  strong  odor  of  wine  pervaded  the  cabin,  and 
Smith's  knock-out  had  given  his  nerves  a  great 
craving  for  a  stimulant. 

Without  a  word,  Leonard  walked  to  the  table, 
took  the  wine  bottle  by  its  neck  and  heaved  it 
through  the  open  port.  The  three  men  in  their 

144 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  145 

half  costumes  stood  listening  intently  until  it 
chucked  into  the  sea  below.  All  three  seemed 
to  feel  relief  at  the  sound. 

"That's  all  right,  Caradoc,"  said  Madden 
with  a  note  of  comfort  in  his  voice,  "  all  right, 
old  chap.  It  won't  be  like  this  always." 

"  I  was  unstrung  —  rotten  heat,"  grumbled 
the  Englishman  in  acute  self -disgust.  "  I 

thought  I  was  getting  over  all "  he  shifted 

the  topic  suddenly :  "  What  do  you  make  out 
of  all  this?" 

"  Completest  mystery  I  ever  ran  into  —  the 
crew  deserted  for  some  reason " 

"And  they  had  a  feast  and  a  celebration 
before  they  went.  What  cause  of  rejoicing 
they  discovered  in  this  place  is  more  than  I  can 
fancy." 

An  inspection  showed  Smith  was  correct. 
What  the  boys  had  taken  for  bloodstains  in 
their  first  excitement  were  splashes  of  wine. 
The  table  was  still  laden  with  dishes  and  eat 
ables.  Broken  glass  around  the  table  showed 
that  the  diners  had  followed  the  old  custom  of 
breaking  their  goblets  after  toasts. 

"  They  were  having  a  last  square  meal  before 


146      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

taking    to    their    boats,"    speculated    Leonard. 

"  But  the  boats  are  still  here,  sir,"  objected 
Greer. 

"  There  seems  to  be  no  explanation,"  gloomed 
Caradoc. 

"  If  we  gathered  this  up  and  took  it  to  the 
men,  they  would  thank  us  heartily,"  suggested 
Greer. 

"  That's  a  fact,"  agreed  Madden,  setting  to 
work  at  once.  "  Here,  pile  these  plates  on  trays 
and  we'll  load  'em  in  the  small  boat." 

The  three  adventurers  set  to  work  busily, 
carrying  the  provisions,  which  were  still  fresh 
and  wholesome,  to  the  port  dinghy  which  lay 
toward  the  dock. 

As  they  worked  they  speculated  further  on 
what  could  have  brought  about  such  an  extraor 
dinary  situation.  Their  guesses  ranged  from 
water  spouts  to  savages.  Presently  Caradoc  cut 
in  with: 

"  It's  not  so  much  how  the  Minnie  B  got  here, 
as  it  is  how  we  are  going  to  handle  her." 

"  We'll  man  her  and  sail  home,"  said  Greer. 

"We'll  have  to  ballast  her  first,"  declared 
Leonard.  "  She  won't  run  this  way." 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  147 

We  have  enough  coal  on  the  dock  for  that, 


sir." 


"  In  a  flat  sea  like  this/'  suggested  Caradoc, 
"  we  can  warp  the  schooner  to  the  front  of  the 
barge  and  load  the  coal  directly  in  her  hold/' 

By  this  time  the  dinghy  was  loaded  and  the 
three  swung  her  out  of  the  davits  into  the  sea 
below.  Then  they  threw  down  a  rope  ladder 
and  climbed  below.  Greer  went  back  to  the 
stern,  picked  up  an  oar  and  began  to  scull. 

The  sun  sank  as  the  little  boat  worked  her 
way  through  the  lanes  of  seaweed,  and  the 
great  dock  threw  long  purple  shadows  across 
the  highly  colored  ocean.  Caradoc  looked  at 
the  great  structure  intently.  The  setting  sun 
rimmed  its  great  shape  in  brilliant  red,  but  the 
bulk  of  it  lay  in  deep  wine-like  shadow.  The 
boys  gazed  at  it  musingly. 

"A  fine  structure  to  desert,  isn't  it?"  said 
Caradoc  in  a  low  tone. 

"Just  what  I  was  thinking,"  sympathized 
Madden.  "  I  suppose  we  could  send  a  tug  back 
and  find  her?" 

"  Doubtful,  in  this  fantastic  place." 

"The  current  is  fairly  well  charted;  still,  it 


148      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

may  take  us  some  time  to  reach  port " 

Both  men  fell  into  a  musing  silence  as  Greer 
nibbled  the  boat  forward  with  the  single  oar. 

"The  thing's  worth  over  a  million  pounds/' 
appraised  Caradoc. 

Suddenly  Madden  straightened  with  an  idea. 
"  How  about  hitching  that  schooner  to  the  dock 
and  towing  her?" 

"  What  an  American  idea !  "  Caradoc  lifted 
his  voice  slightly. 

"Would  we  —  make  any  —  headway,  sir, 
with  the  schooner's  —  light  machinery?"  asked 
Greer,  his  sentence  punctuated  by  shoves  at  his 
oar. 

"We  would  have  to  try  and  see.  Besides, 
we  would  have  to  do  little  else  than  help  the 
current  we  are  in.  The  Atlantic  eddy  sweeps 
through  the  Caribbean  close  to  the  South 
American  coast.  If  we  could  control  our  direc 
tion  slightly,  we  would  perhaps  make  La  Guayra 
or  the  Port  of  Spain." 

"With  a  seven  or  eight  mile  current  that 
would  take  us  months  —  years.  .  .  .  What 
is  the  distance  to  La  Guayra  ?  "  this  from  Smith. 

"  Something    around    fifteen    hundred    miles. 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  149 

But  that  isn't  the  point.  It  isn't  how  long  it 
takes  us,  it's  can  we  do  it.  Had  you  thought 
of  the  salvage  end  of  this  thing?  " 

"  Salvage,  no.  We'll  get  salvage  on  the 
schooner  —  a  bagatelle." 

Madden  shook  his  head,  "  No,  I  believe  we 
ought  to  get  salvage  on  the  whole  dock." 

"  Salvage  on  the  dock !  "  Caradoc  opened  his 
eyes.  "We'd  be  jolly  well  near  millionaires. 
No,  that's  impossible.  A  crew  can't  salve  their 
own  vessel." 

"  Yes,  but  we  are  not  the  crew  of  the  dock," 
insisted  Madden,  "at  least  not  the  navigating 
crew.  The  men  of  the  Vulcan  were  that.  We 
are  nothing  but  painters " 

"  Oh,  that's  a  quibble  —  nothing  but  a  quib 
ble  ! "  objected  Caradoc. 

"Well,  anyway,  I  think  there  is  a  rule  that 
if  a  crew  rescue  their  own  craft  under  circum 
stances  of  extreme  peril,  they  come  in  as  sal 
vors.  I'll  look  it  up  in  Malone's  books  when  we 
get  back." 

At  that  moment  their  ears  caught  a  cheering 
from  the  dock,  which  came  to  them  as  a  small 
sound  almost  lost  over  the  immense  flat  sea. 


150      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Greer  paused  in  his  work  to  wave  a  hand,  which 
was  extremely  sociable  for  him.  The  men 
bunched  on  the  forward  pontoon,  waved  and 
shouted  at  the  little  boat.  As  the  noise  grew 
louder,  questions  shaped  themselves  in  the 
uproar. 

"Wot  did  ye  make  of  'er?"  "Was  there 
any  wan  aboard?  "  "  Wot  ship  is  she?  "  "  Can 
we  git  a  berth  hoff  this  bloomin'  dock?" 

Madden  held  up  his  hands  for  silence  and 
shouted  a  reply. 

"  We  have  a  meal  for  you  —  a  dinner !  " 

A  great  shouting  and  cheering  broke  out  at 
this.  It  is  strange  how  much  more  pressing  is 
the  small  need  of  a  dinner  than  the  large  need 
of  a  rescue.  The  mystery  of  the  schooner  was 
overlooked  in  a  sight  of  the  plates  and  victuals. 

"  Oh,  look,  there  it  is  —  bread  and  meat !  " 
"And,  say,  ain't  that  fish?5'  "And  that  goose 
or  something ! " 

Eager  hands  reached  down  as  Madden  and 
Caradoc  handed  up  the  platters.  "  To  the  mess 
room,  to  the  mess  room ! "  directed  Leonard. 

"  Sure,  sure,  we  wouldn't  touch  a  mouthful 
for  hanything ! "  cried  Mulcher  earnestly. 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  151 

"  Misther  Madden,  you're  a  wonder ! " 
extolled  Hogan. 

Then  the  three  men  climbed  up  and  were 
received  clamorously.  Even  the  silent  Greer 
found  himself  beset  with  a  temporary  bunch  of 
admirers.  All  began  talking  of  the  Minnie  B, 
asking  questions.  Caradoc  unbent  his  dignity 
and  explained  what  he  had  observed. 

Leonard  went  straight  to  the  officer's  cabin, 
eager  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  about  salvage.  A 
whole  fortune  shimmered  before  his  vision  if 
law  allowed  the  crew  to  salve  the  dock.  He 
turned  into  the  hot  cabin,  struck  a  light  and  ran 
his  eyes  over  the  mate's  shelf  of  books.  He 
soon  found  what  he  was  hunting,  "  Abbot's  Law 
of  Merchant's  Ships  and  Seamen." 

Leonard  sat  down  at  his  desk,  placed  the  light 
close  by  and  began  a  sweating  search  for  the 
legal  rule  applicable  to  salvage.  It  was  Mad- 
den's  intention  to  attempt  to  get  the  dock  to  port 
no  matter  what  the  law  said,  but  he  knew  his 
best  chance  of  getting  the  crew  to  cooperate  was 
through  possible  prize  money. 

Like  all  legal  works,  Abbott  gave  shading 
decisions  on  both  sides  of  the  topic.  As  the 


152      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

lad  read  on  he  discovered  many  questions  were 
involved. 

What  constitutes  the  crew  of  a  vessel?  Can 
a  towed  vessel  have  a  navigating  crew?  Could 
a -lawful  crew  be  composed  of  ordinary  laborers, 
or  would  it  be  necessary  for  them  to  be  able 
seamen? 

All  these  points  and  many  others  were 
involved,  but  Leonard  plodded  patiently  through 
the  legal  labyrinth,  and  finally  decided  that  he 
and  his  crew  were  eligible  for  prize  money.  He 
then  fell  to  estimating  the  probable  amount  the 
crew  would  receive.  The  dock  was  easily  worth 
a  million  pounds,  or  say  five  million  dollars.  It 
would  lack  one  or  two  hundred  thousand  totting 
up  a  full  five  million,  but  Leonard's  imagination 
was  in  no  mood  to  balk  at  a  paltry  two  hundred 
thousand  more  or  less.  Say  five  million!  The 
share  of  the  salvors  would  amount  to  —  say 
fifty  per  cent,  two  and  a  half  million.  Distrib 
ute  this  among  twelve  men.  There  he  was, 
two  hundred  and  eight  thousand,  three  hundred 
and  thirty-three  dollars  and  thirty-three  cents. 
Or  say  two  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

Madden  drew  a  long  breath  and  opened  his 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  153 

eyes  at  his  own  figures.  Was  it  possible?  He 
doubted  it!  He  believed  it! 

He  stared  out  of  his  open  port  onto  the  fan 
tastic  sea,  amazed  that  a  great  fortune  should 
drift  in  to  him  from  such  a  place.  What  would 
he  do?  How  should  he  live?  He  could  go 
anywhere,  do  anything.  There  came  to  him 
suddenly  the  precepts  of  his  old  teacher  in 
economics  at  college :  "  A  fortune  is  a  great 
moral  responsibility.  A  rich  man  is  a  trustee 
of  society."  Did  he  have  the  brains  to  wield 
this  money  and  make  it  mean  something  to  the 
world?  The  thought  of  wealth  always  comes 
with  a  question.  A  man's  answer  to  that  ques 
tion  determines  whether  he  is  a  man  or  a  thing. 

Before  Leonard  could  reach  any  sort  of  deci 
sion,  Gaskin  rang  his  gong  for  dinner.  The 
boy  arose  and  walked  buoyantly  towards  the 
mess  hall.  He  was*  hungry,  too.  Ever  since 
he  had  cut  rations,  he  had  been  eating  the  same 
fare  as  the  men. 

The  tropical  night  was  falling  as  the  men 
joyously  entered  to  a  full-fledged,  satisfying,  if 
secondhand,  meal.  They  came  in  laughing,  jok 
ing  boisterously,  wondering  about  the  schooner. 


154      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

When  the  men  had  strung  around  the  long 
table,  Mike  Hogan  arose  and  the  men  became 
quiet  as  if  at  some  preconcerted  signal.  The 
Irishman  gave  a  slightly  embarrassed  bob 
toward  Leonard  and  began  in  an  extra  rich 
brogue : 

"  Misther  Madden,  sir " 

Leonard  glanced  up  in  surprise.  "  What's 
worrying  you,  Mike?" 

"  Th'  bhoys,  sir,  have  been  thinkin'  as  how 
we  would  loike  to  ixpress  our  appreciation  av 
what  yeVe  done  for  us,  sir,  in  a  little  spache, 
something  loike  a  little  spache  av  wilcome,  sir, 
an'  asked  me  to  do  it,  if  ye  don't  moind." 

"Go  ahead,"  nodded  Madden,  "but  don't 
expect  much  of  a  response  from  me.  I'm  no 
speaker  and " 

"  Go  on,  Mike !  "  "  Go  to  it,  Mike !  "  "  Take 
a  sip  of  water,  Mike,  like  a  reg'lar  one,  and  cut 
loose." 

With  this  encouragement,  the  Celt  moistened 
his  dry  lips,  thrust  out  his  chest,  and  after  a 
momentary  fumble,  stuck  three  fingers  in  his 
shirt  front. 

"  It's  me  pr-roud  privilege,  ladies  and  gintil- 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  155 

min,  to  wilcome  to  our  midst,  a  gintilmin  bearin' 
in  wan  hand  a  distinguished  ancistry,  a  spirit  av 
enterprise  and  a  hear-rt  av  courage,  while  wid 
his  other,  he  snatches  a  dinner  for  his  starvin' 
min  out  o'  th'  middle  av  th'  Sargasso  Sea.  Oi 
rayfer  to  our  distinguished  commander,  Captain 
Leonard  Madden  of  America." 

A  burst  of  applause  followed  this  period. 
Hogan  beamed,  bowed  deeply  to  left  and  right; 
his  voice  went  up  an  octave  and  he  proceeded: 

"  Ladies  an'  gintilmin,  me  mind  runs  back 
through  th'  pages  av  histh'ry,  lookin'  for  a 
name  fit  to  be  compared  with  him  but  I  don't 
find  none.  There  is  Columbus  and  Peary  and 
Stanley  and  Amundsen,  all  av  thim  gr-reat  min, 
but  whin  you  come  to  compare  thim  with  our 
hero,  phwat  have  they  done? 

"Look  at  Columbus.  What  is  his  claim  to 
glory?  Did  Columbus  iver  swim  out  into  th' 
stinkin'  Sargasso  and  come  back  with  a  good 
dinner  for  his  star-r-vin'  min?  Histh'ry  does  not 
say  so.  He  discovered  America,  Columbus  did. 
What  is  America?  A  whole  continint.  Any 
body  that  was  sailin'  by  would  have  noticed  it. 
But,  gintilmin,  a  dinner  is  a  very  small  thing 


156      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

and  they  are  har-rd  to  discover,  as  ivry  wan  of 
you  lads  very  will  know.  Columbus  wint  out  in 
thray  ships,  our  gallant  captain  wint  out  in  his 
undhershirt  and  a  straw  hat.  I  say  thray  cheers 
for  our  gallant  captain ! " 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  hearty  good 
will  and  the  orator  sat  down  smiling  broadly 
and  moistening  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue. 
Then  the  diners  desired  a  response. 

It  struck  Madden  to  propose  salving  the  dock 
while  the  crowd  was  mellow.  He  arose  when 
the  noise  subsided  somewhat. 

"  I  thank  you  fellows  very  much  for  the  kind 
opinion  you  entertain  of  me,  and  now  I  want 
to  lay  a  proposition  before  you." 

"  Hear !  Hear  the  captain ! "  called  two  or 
three  cockneys  in  hoarse  good  humor. 

"  I  want  to  say  that  to-morrow  we  are  going 
to  man  the  schooner  and  sail  for  home." 

The  men  were  in  a  bubbling  mood,  and 
cheered  this  with  cries  of  "  Good!  Good!  " 

"What  I  wish  you  to  decide  is,  whether  we 
shall  tow  the  dock,  or  sail  with  the  schooner 
alone?" 

"  With  the  schooner  alone,  sor !  "    "  Schooner 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS  157 

alone !  "  "  We  Jave  enough  of  th'  dock !  "  came 
an  instant  chorus. 

Leonard  held  up  a  hand,  "One  moment.  I 
want  you  to  have  a  voice  in  this  decision.  An 
attempt  to  tow  the  dock  will  be  highly  adven 
turous,  no  doubt  dangerous.  You  were  not 
hired  for  any  such  service,  and  I  wish  to  leave 
it  to  a  vote." 

"  Good,  very  good,  sor !  Let's  'ave  th' 
question ! " 

"  Just  one  moment.  You  must  consider  the 
salvage  involved  in  this  matter.  If  we  save  the 
schooner,  we  will  receive  as  prize  money  about 
one-half  her  value.  If  we  save  the  dock,  we 
will  receive  about  half  her  value.  The  dock  is 
worth  a  million  pounds,  about  five  million  dol 
lars.  So  each  man  would  receive  for  his  por 
tion,  in  event  we  salved  the  dock  about  .  .  . 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  ...  a  fortune." 

A  profound  silence  fell  over  the  diners.  They 
hunched  forward,  staring  fixedly  out  of  sun 
burned,  gross,  dissipated  faces.  Longshores- 
men,  the  scum  of  London,  who  had  worked  all 
their  lives  for  half  a  pound  a  week,  gaped  at 
the  idea  of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars. 


158      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Somebody  repeated  the  sum  hoarsely.  Sud 
denly  they  raised  an  uproar. 

"We'll  take  'er,  sir!"  "We'll  tow  th'  dock, 
sor !  "  "  We  weel  tow  zee  dock  to  zee  moon  for 
zat !  "  "  Sphend  our  loives  and  die  rich  min !  " 

The  strong  imagination  of  wealth  ran  around 
the  table  like  wine.  Deschaillon  responded  first. 

"  Voila !  One  meellion  francs !  I  weel  buy 
a  pond  near  Paris  and  raise  bull  frogs.  I  weel 
buy  a  decoration  and  be  a  knight.  I  weel " 

"  I'll  start  an  undertaker  shop !  "  glowed  Gal- 
ton,  "  and  my  old  mother  shall  have  a  bit  of 
ground  to  raise  flowers." 

"Glory  be!"  chanted  Hogan,  "  Oi'll  wear  a 
tall  hat,  a  long-tailed  coat  and  carry  a  silver- 
headed  cane,  and  thin  Susie  Maloney  and  Brid 
get  O'Malley  and  Peggy  O'Brien  will  be  sorry 
they  iver  tossed  up  their  saucy  noses  at  th'  love 
o'  an  honest  lad !  " 

"  I'll  own  a  kennel  of  bulldogs,"  growled 
Mulcher,  "and  'ave  a  fight  hev'ry  day." 

All  this  was  given  in  chorus  and  much  of  it 
lost.  Those  who  didn't  speak  aloud  their  heart's 
desires  thought  them.  Fortune  had  shown  her 
golden  form  to  these  crude  men  for  a  fleeting 


A  MODERN  COLUMBUS          159 

instant,  and  dreams,  long  hidden  in  their  hearts, 
suddenly  leaped  to  life.  They  were  poor  dreams, 
selfish  dreams,  foolish  dreams,  but  for  the 
moment  they  poised,  like  liberated  fairies,  for 
a  flight  to  the  land  where  dreams  come  true. 

"We  sail  in  the  morning/'  explained  Mad 
den,  "  for  a  South  American  port.  Is  there 
anyone  in  this  crew  who  knows  anything  about 
running  a  marine  engine?" 

The  men  fell  silent  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
each  other.  Fortune  was  beginning  to  show 
herself  elusive,  even  in  the  Sargasso,  save  to 
those  who  know. 

"  I  b'lieve  not,"  said  Mulcher. 

"We  could  raise  steam,  sir,"  suggested  Gal- 
ton,  "  and  then  pull  all  the  levers  and  twist  th' 
w'eels,  sir  and  see  w'ot'd  'appen." 

"  Wot  'ud  'appen !  "  cried  two  or  three  voices. 
"  W'y,  we'd  hall  be  blowed  galley  west,  'at's 
w'ot'd  'appen!" 

"  Sure  Misther  Madden  can  figger  it  out ! " 
suggested  Hogan  cheerfully. 

"  We  might  leave  th'  dock  and  run  'er  'ome 
by  sail,"  suggested  Galton. 

"No!    No!    Take  th'  dock!  "    "  We'll  run  'er 


160     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

by  steam!  "  "  Steam's  th'  word! "  A  storm  of 
determination  cried  down  any  such  suggestion. 

"•  D'ye  mean  a  dozin  str-rong  min  can't  run 
one  little  engine!"  shouted  Hogan;  "r-rich 
min,  too!  It's  a  shame,  lads,  we  haven't  a 
dhrop  o*  something  to  dhrink  the  health  av 
th'  ixpedition." 

"  Yes,  Mister  Madden,  a  drop  o'  something !  " 
urged  another  voice. 

At  that  moment,  Gaskin  entered  the  door  with 
suppressed  excitement  showing  through  his  usu 
ally  imperturbable  manner. 

"  Hi  —  Hi  beg  pardon,  Mister  Madden.  Hi, 

don't  want  to  interrupt,  but "  he  rubbed  his 

hands  with  a  little  bob  —  "  but  would  you  'ave 
th'  goodness  to  step  outside  for  a  look,  sir.  Hi 
think  th'  Minnie  B  is  on  fire." 

And  the  fairy  dreams,  evoked  by  a  wave  of 
Fortune's  wand,  crept  silently  back  into  the 
hearts  of  their  owners. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  STRANGE  END  OF  THE  MINNIE  B 

At  Gaskin's '  announcement,  bedlam  broke 
loose  among  the  diners.  They  leaped  to  their 
feet  and  rushed  headlong  from  the  messroom. 

"  Get  th'  buckets!  "  "  Man  th'  boat!  "  "  We'll 
niver  get  there  in  toimel  "  "Allans!  Allans!" 
"  W'y  didn't  we  put  a  guard  on  'er  I  "  "  Hurry ! 
Hurry  I  Hurry !  "  "  Yes,  'urry !  'urry !  " 

Out  into  the  darkness  to  the  forward  pontoon 
rushed  the  howling  mob.  Some  gave  inarticu 
late  cries,  others  bewailed  their  lost  riches  to  the 
vast  empty  night. 

A  strange  sight  met  their  eyes.  The  spars 
and  sails  of  the  Minnie  B  stood  out  against  the 
black  heavens  in  a  flickering  brilliance  that 
danced  up  through  the  rigging,  but  presently  all 
saw  it  was  a  mere  light  shining  from  beneath. 

"Th'  fire's  in  th'  hold!"  cried  Galton 
hoarsely.  "  Did  you  men  drop  a  match  ?  " 

161 


162      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  'Ow  could  they  drop  a  match,  wearin' 
nothin'  but  undershirts?"  flared  back  another 
navvy. 

"  We  could  do  no  good  in  a  small  boat ! " 
cried  Galton. 

"  She's  afire  from  stem  to  stern!" 

"But  smoke  —  w'ere's  th'  smoke?" 

Then,  quite  surprisingly,  the  light  wavered 
out,  leaving  the  schooner  in  stony  blackness.  A 
vague  blur  of  complementary  color  swam  in 
Madden's  eyes.  A  gasp  went  up  from  the 
watchers. 

"  Bhoys,"  faltered  Hogan  in  an  awed  tone, 
"  th'  banshees  ar-re  dancin'  to-night !  " 

"  Banshees !  "  sneered  Mulcher.  "  Th'  deck's 
caved  in  —  it'll  break  out  again!" 

"  Th'  engines  must  be  ruint  complately." 

"Wot  do  ye  make  of  it,  Mister  Madden?" 
asked  Galton,  bewildered.  "  Look  —  there  it  is 
again !  " 

Sure  enough  the  mysterious  light  flamed  up 
once  more  as  suddenly  as  it  disappeared.  It 
flickered  and  wavered  over  hull  and  spars. 

"  It  might  possibly  be  a  phosphorescent  dis 
play,"  hazarded  Leonard,  completely  mystified. 


END  OF  THE  MINNE  B  163 

"Tropical  seas  grow  very  luminous  when  dis 
turbed  ...  a  school  of  dolphins  or  sharks 
on  the  other  side  the  schooner  might " 

"  This  must  be  a  reg'lar  fire !  "  cried  Mulcher. 
"  Nothin'  but  a  furnace  in  th'  hold " 

"W'y  don't  hit  smoke?" 

"'Ow  do  I  know?" 

"Hit  ain't  a  fire!" 

"Wot  is  hit?" 

"  Phosphescence,  didn't  you  'ear  Mister  Mad 
den  say!" 

"Will  hit  sink 'er?" 

Deschaillon  gave  a  sharp  laugh.  "  What 
sauvages! " 

By  this  time  it  became  clear  to  everyone  that 
it  was  not  a  fire.  As  the  weird  illumination 
continued  its  fantastic  gambols,  little  points  of 
light  began  moving  about  the  deck. 

Just  then  Caradoc's  grave  voice  hazarded: 
"  That  must  be  an  extraordinary  display  of  St. 
Elmo's  fire.  I  should  say  a  storm  was  brewing." 

"Would  St.  Elmo's  fire  'urt  th'  vessel,  sir?" 
asked  a  cockney. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  Englishman. 

As  Leonard  stared  a  queer  thought  came  into 


164      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

his  head.  He  looked  around  at  his  companions. 
In  the  faint  radiance  from  the  mysterious 
schooner,  he  could  make  out  their  faces,  pale 
blurs  all  fixed  on  the  strange  spectacle.  He 
picked  out  the  heavy  form  of  Farnol  Greer  and 
moved  over  to  his  friend.  Under  the  cover  of 
excited  talking  and  exclamations,  he  asked  in  a 
low  tone, 

"  There  was  somebody  on  that  schooner  this 
morning,  Farnol?" 

"  Just  what  I  was  thinking,  sir." 

"He  could  have  hidden  from  us.  You 
thought  he  must  be  crazy  —  a  crazy  man  would 
probably  have  secreted  himself." 

"  I  had  it  in  mind,  sir,  the  very  thing." 

"  Now  could  he  possibly  make  a  light  like 
this?" 

Greer  remained  silent.  The  queer  fellow 
never  said  anything  when  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

"  Fd  like  to  go  over  and  see,"  went  on  Leon 
ard.  "  I  want  one  man  to  row  with  me.  We 
want  to  go  light  and  fast," 

"  That's  me,  sir." 

Greer  moved  instantly  to  the  rope  ladder 
where  the  dinghy  was  tied.  Madden  followed 


END  OF  THE  MINNIE  B          165 

him.  Caradoc  was  still  explaining  the  theory 
of  St.  Elmo's  fire  to  the  listening  men.  Madden 
broke  in  on  it, 

"  Fellows/'  he  called,  "  Greer  and  I  are  going 
to  row  over  there.  We'll  let  you  know  what  we 
find" 

Amid  warning  protests  the  two  climbed  down 
the  ladder  for  the  small  boat. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it,  sir."  "  Leckricity's  liable 
to  strike  you,  sir."  "  There's  a  storm  comin', 
sir,  and  you  won't  get  back,  like  th'  mate  did." 
"  You  can  see  just  as  well  from  'ere." 

But  the  two  clambered  into  the  half-seen 
dinghy  and  pushed  off.  The  moment  they 
dipped  oars  into  water,  the  mystery  was  par 
tially  explained.  Every  stroke  they  made  cre 
ated  bright  phosphorescent  rings  in  the  lifeless 
sea.  Their  blades  drove  through  the  water  in 
a  flame.  The  navvies  cried  out  at  this  phe 
nomenon.  A  sufficient  disturbance  of  the  sea 
beyond  the  schooner  would  almost  explain  the 
strange  light  dancing  through  the  rigging.  But 
what  made  that  disturbance? 

Reflections  of  the  shining  spars  made  a  wav 
ering  path  over  the  weed-strewn  water,  and  up 


166      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

this  path  the  dinghy  moved  amid  its  own  flash 
ing  fires.  It  formed  a  queer  spectacle,  a  glow 
worm  creeping  up  on  a  bonfire. 

The  fact  that  the  two  boys  had  just  traversed 
the  Sargasso  lanes  a  few  hours  before  aided 
them  greatly  now  in  finding  their  way  to  the 
schooner.  Presently  they  were  skirting  the 
drift  of  seaweed  where  Madden  had  come  so 
near  losing  his  life.  As  they  rowed,  the  flash 
ing  of  the  water  about  their  oars  only  half  con 
vinced  Madden  that  a  similar  cause  underlay 
the  bizarre  illumination  on  the  schooner.  The 
American's  mind  clung  to  the  idea  that  there 
was  somebody  on  board  the  Minnie  B,  a  mad 
man,  possibly,  who  in  some  unknown  way  pro 
duced  this  amazing  light. 

He  groped  for  some  theory  to  account  for  a 
maniac  on  a  deserted  schooner  in  these  desolate 
seas.  No  doubt  if  a  solitary  man  were  left  in 
these  terrible  painted  seas  he  would  go  insane. 
Madden  regretted  that  he  had  not  searched  the 
Minnie  B  more  thoroughly  when  he  had  the 
opportunity. 

Similar  thoughts  evidently  played  in  Greer's 
mind,  for  presently  he  puffed  out,  between  oar 


END  OF  THE  MINNE  B  167 

strokes:     "Did  you  bring  along  a  pistol,  sir?" 

"  No,  but  there  are  two  of  us." 

"  They  say  they  are  tremendously  stout,  sir." 

"We  can  use  our  oars;  they'd  made  good 
clubs." 

"  I'm  with  you,  sir." 

By  this  time  they  had  entered  a  long  S-shaped 
rift  that  Madden  recalled  led  straight  to  the 
schooner.  By  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  the 
American  saw  its  two  curving  strokes  drawn  in 
pale  light  against  the  dark  field  of  seaweed. 
As  they  drew  nearer,  wild  notions  of  what  they 
might  encounter  played  through  Madden's  mind. 
What  would  be  the  outcome  of  this  fantastic 
adventure? 

The  dinghy  was  moving  down  the  middle  of 
the  long  "  S "  when  a  dull  noise  from  the 
schooner  caused  both  oarsmen  to  look  around. 
Such  an  extraordinary  sight  met  their  eyes  that 
they  ceased  rowing  completely,  and  stood  up  in 
the  boat  to  stare  at  their  goal. 

The  Minnie  B  no  longer  lay  at  rest.  Some 
strange  and  mighty  convulsion  was  taking  place 
in  the  schooner.  The  lights  still  played  about 
the  vessel,  but  her  whole  prow  rose  slowly  out 


168      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

of  the  sea,  while  she  settled  heavily  by  the  stern. 
The  most  unexpected  thing  in  the  world  was 
happening. 

The  Minnie  B  was  foundering! 

In  the  ghastly  light,  her  masts  and  rigging 
swung  in  a  slow  drunken  reel.  Presently  she 
settled  back  to  normal  with  a  heavy  crushing 
sound  as  the  water  in  her  hold  rushed  forward. 
She  seemed  some  mighty  leviathan  weltering  in 
agony.  She  lay  on  even  keel  for  four  or  five 
minutes  while  a  hissing  and  spewing  of  air  com 
pressed  in  her  hull  told  she  was  slowly  settling. 

In  the  ghostly  light  the  foundering  vessel  gave 
a  strange  impression  of  clinging  desperately  to 
her  life.  She  seemed  striving  to  remain  upright. 
Her  hissing  and  sucking  might  have  been  a  liv 
ing  gasp  for  breath.  Very  slowly  she  rolled 
over,  and  came  the  noise  of  many  waters  cascad 
ing  down  over  her  upflung  keel.  Her  masts 
crashed,  yards  broke,  rigging  popped  in  the 
wildest  confusion  as  they  dashed  into  the  sea. 
Great  phosphorescent  waves  dashed  through  the 
prone  rigging  and  over  the  hull  in  liquid  fire. 
A  sea  of  quicksilver  leaped  up  to  lick  her  down. 
With  great  bubbling  and  sucking  and  groaning, 


END  OF  THE  MINNE  B  169 

the  Minnie  B  fought  for  her  last  gasp  of  life. 
For  several  minutes  she  lay  thus,  on  her  side, 
every  detail  clearly  delineated  as  liquid  fire 
roared  down  her  open  hatches.  At  last,  as  she 
filled  with  water,  the  schooner  straightened  with 
a  mighty  effort,  a  last  stand  between  sea  and 
sky,  then  sank  slowly  out  of  sight  in  a  scene  of 
wild  and  ill-starred  beauty.  Her  mainpeak  dis 
appeared  in  a  shining  maelstrom.  The  con 
vulsed  water  flashed  and  hissed,  and  the  circling 
waves  b©re  torches  into  the  dead  seaweed  and 
moved  the  black  fields  to  a  whispered  sighing. 

Toward  the  south  the  waves  moved  with 
great  velocity  and  brilliance.  Indeed  something 
seemed  to  be  rushing  away  from  the  wreck,  clad 
in  long  winding  sheets  of  flame.  It  might  have 
been  a  continuation  of  the  waves  in  that  direc 
tion,  or  it  might  have  been  some  dolphin  or 
shark  flying  from  the  roaring  vessel. 

In  ghastly  mystification,  the  two  watchers 
stared  at  the  last  weird  gleams  that  marked  the 
foundered  schooner.  The  waves  reached  the 
dinghy,  raised  it  and  dropped  it  with  a  slow 
gurgling,  then  died  away  in  firefly  glimmers. 
The  sea  presented  once  more  a  dim  gray  sur- 


170      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

face.  To  Madden's  mind  there  came,  with  a 
sharp  sense  of  pathos,  the  picture  of  the  little 
sunny-haired  girl  he  had  seen  in  the  chart  room. 

"  Sunk,"  murmured  Greer  in  a  strange  tone, 
"  sunk  —  when  she  was  as  dry  as  a  chip." 

"  Heeled  over,"  shivered  Madden,  "  heeled 
over  in  a  dead  calm  —  God  have  mercy  on  us !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 
CARADOC  SHOWS  HIS  METTLE 

Heat,  that  grew  more  terrific  as  the  dock 
drifted  southward;  hunger,  that  gnawed  like 
rats  at  the  empty  stomachs  of  the  crew;  wither 
ing  heat,  aching  hunger,  growing  despair  —  that 
was  life  on  the  floating  dock 

Of  all  the  crew  only  Gaskin  remained  in  good 
condition.  It  would  have  required  more  than  a 
hero  to  cook  food  and  go  hungry,  but  the  crew 
made  no  such  allowances.  They  berated  the 
dignified  Gaskin,  they  eyed  each  other's  scant 
portions  jealously.  Their  quarrels  over  food  at 
last  forced  Madden  to  weigh  each  man's  allow 
ance  to  the  fraction  of  an  ounce. 

The  nerves  of  the  crew  frayed  out  in  the  heat. 
By  night  they  slept  amid  tantalizing  dreams  of 
food;  by  day  they  sprawled  in  dreary  silences 
under  awnings  which  held  heat  like  sweat  boxes. 
The  high  metal  walls  of  the  dock  caught  the 

171 


172      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

sun's  rays  and  threw  out  a  furnace  heat.  The 
men  endured  it  in  net  undershirts  clinging  to 
dripping  bodies;  their  eyes  ached  against  the 
glare,  their  stomachs  rebelled,  their  brains  sick 
ened  with  monotony  and  despair. 

The  men  developed  little  personal  traits  that 
exasperated  their  mates  unreasonably.  Mulcher 
had  a  way  of  breathing  aloud  through  his  coarse 
lips  that  chafed  Hogan's  temper.  For  hours  at 
a  time  the  Irishman  would  stare  at  those  flabby 
spewing  lips,  filled  with  a  desire  to  maul  them. 
Yet  before  this  isolation,  he  had  never  observed 
that  Mulcher  breathed  aloud. 

The  only  occupation  the  men  had  now  was  to 
stare  at,  listen  to  and  criticise  each  other.  All 
painting  had  ceased,  for  work  consumes  energy, 
and  energy  consumes  food* 

Caradoc  Smith  found  peculiar  and  private 
grievance  in  the  fact  that  Greer  often  whistled 
to  himself  in  a  windy  undertone.  The  tune  Far- 
nol  chose  for  these  unfortunate  performances 
was  an  American  ragtime,  that  repeated  the 
same  strain  over  and  over. 

Caradoc  strove  not  to  listen  to  this  dry  whist 
ling.  Sometimes  he  left  his  awning  and  climbed 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       173 

up  the  walls  through  the  sapping  sun's  rays  to 
escape  it,  but  his  ears  caught  the  faintly  aspir 
ated  air  at  remarkable  distances. 

One  day  he  said  to  Madden:  "I  don't  see 
how  you  stand  that  Greer  fellow's  eternal 
whistling,"  and  Leonard  answered: 

"  Does  Greer  whistle?  " 

"  Whistle  I  He  whistles  everlastingly,  abom 
inably —  one  of  those  confounded  American 
rags.  He's  at  it  now  —  what  is  that  thing?  " 

Madden  had  to  listen  very  carefully  before  he 
caught  the  faint  blowing  between  Farnol's  lips. 
Presently  he  identified  it 

"That's  'Winona,  Sweet  Indian  Maid.'" 

This  reply  seemed  to  arouse  an  irrational 
anger  in  the  Briton. 

w  *  Winona,  Sweet  Indian  Maid '  —  sweet 
Indian  Maid  I  *'  he  snorted,  "  Did  an  Indian 
write  such  a  nightmare?  Is  it  a  war  song? 
Do  they  murder  each  other  by  it,  or  with  it?" 

Madden  grinned  with  fagged  appreciation, 
thinking  the  remark  meant  for  humor,  but 
Caradoc  grimly  chewed  his  blond  mustache. 

It  was  noon,  three  days  later  when  Caradoc's 
endurance  broke  down. 


174      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  Greer ! "  he  snapped  with  all  his  pent-up 
irritation  in  his  voice,  "  will  you  never  stop 
mouthing  that  beastly  tune?" 

The  stolid  fellow  looked  around  in  the 
blankest  surprise.  "Tune?" 

"  No,  groaning,  wheezing !  You  spew  it  out 
all  day  long!  What  do  you  think  you  are?  A 
tree  frog,  a  locust,  a  katydid?  Doesn't  your 
mouth  get  tired?  Does  that  hideous  tinkle  go 
through  your  hollow  head  all  day  long?  " 

The  Englishman's  long  face  was  a  dusky  red. 
He  had  not  intended  to  be  insulting  when  he 
first  spoke,  but  all  the  sarcastic  and  abusive 
epithets  that  he  had  thought  during  the  long 
super-heated  days  of  nerve-racked  listening,  now 
rushed  out  like  steam  from  a  boiler. 

Farnol  stared  straight  at  the  nervous  fellow. 
"Are  you  insane?"  he  asked  in  wondering 
contempt. 

"A  wonder  I'm  not  —  with  that  diabolical 
wheezy  spewing  boring  in  my  brain  —  you  never 
stop  a  minute  —  over  and  over " 

"  Have  you  run  out  of  stolen  whiskey  again?  " 
interrupted  Greer  with  cool  malice. 

The  whole  crew  came  to  hushed  attention. 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       175 

Caradoc  seemed  to  collect  himself  with  a  great 
effort.  The  blood  ebbed  from  his  face,  leaving 
it  the  color  of  clay. 

"Stolen?"  he  asked  in  a  contained  voice. 

"  Yes,  isn't  there  another  medicine  case  for 
you  to  steal?" 

"  Greer !  "  cried  Madden  reproachfully.  The 
American  knew  it  was  hunger,  heat  and  nerves 
that  were  nagging  these  two  miserable  men  to 
quarrel. 

"  I  believe  he  said  I  was  no  gentleman,"  pro 
nounced  Greer  sarcastically,  "  because  I  didn't 
know  a  little  French.  I  say  he's  a  thief." 

Caradoc  was  drawing  long  breaths  through 
dilated  nostrils.  "  Mr.  Greer,"  he  said  with  cold 
evenness,  "  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  swords  or 
pistols  on  this  dock.  We  will  have  to  fight  with 
our  hands.  Choose  a  second !  " 

Greer  nodded  shortly.  Both  men  got  to  their 
feet  and  both  glanced  at  Madden. 

The  American  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't 
serve  for  either  of  you.  I'm  in  command  here. 
I'm  impartial." 

"Will  you  oblige  me,  Mr.  Deschaillon  ? " 
asked  Smith  with  a  set  face. 


176      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  Gaul  arose,  saluted,  military  fashion, 
with  a  clicking  of  heels.  "  Eet  ees  an  honor, 
M'sieu!" 

Greer  stared  around  dourly.     "Hogan?" 

The    Irishman    leaped   to   his    feet   joyfully. 

"Oi'm  wid  ye,  Misther  Greer,  and  well  bate 

th'  long  face  off  th'  spalpeen,  though  I  hate  to 

hit  Frinchy  Dashalong,  who  is  a  good  frind  o' 


mine." 


All  the  men  were  up  now  circling  about  the 
principals. 

"You  don't  have  to  do  no  fightin',  'Ogan," 
explained  Galton,  "  you  simply  stand  by  and 
'old  up  for  your  man,  an'  'elp  fan  'im  'twixt 
rounds." 

"  Rounds !  "  exclaimed  the  disgusted  Irish 
man.  "  I  thought  they  were  choosin'  sides  for 
a  free-for-all." 

Caradoc  began  methodically  stripping  to  the 
waist  and  Greer  followed  suit.  The  Englishman 
presented  his  watch  to  Madden  with  a  slight 
bow, 

"  If  you'll  be  so  kind  as  to  keep  time,"  he 
suggested,  "  that's  a  neutral  position.  We  fight 
four  minutes  and  rest  one." 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       177 

Madden  considered  the  warlike  preparations 
askance.  He  wondered  if  he  ought  not  to  stop 
it.  The  Englishman  might  suffer  another  sun 
stroke.  However,  he  took  his  station  at  the 
ringside,  and  glanced  at  the  watch,  which  had 
a  coat  of  arms  carved  on  the  inside  of  its 
hunting  case. 

There  was  a  striking  contrast  between  the 
two  fighters.  The  Englishman  was  a  beautiful 
taper  from  his  great  shoulders  to  his  small 
aristocratic  feet.  His  muscles  were  long,  grace 
ful  and  knitted  across  his  arms,  chest,  and 
stomach  like  lace  leather.  He  was  built  for 
swift  enduring  action  and  could  only  have 
sprung  from  a  race  of  men  who  had  spent  their 
lives  in  play  and  luxury. 

Farnol  Greer,  on  the  other  hand,  was  as 
heavily  moulded  as  a  bulldog.  His  arms  were 
short  and  blocky;  his  shoulders  welted  with 
brawn;  his  chest  was  two  hairy  hills,  like  a 
gorilla's,  while  across  his  stomach  muscles  lay 
ridged  like  ropes.  His  waist  was  thick  with 
pones  of  sinew  bulging  over  the  hips,  as  one 
sees  in  the  statue  of  Discobolus.  It  was  plain 
that  Greer  had  labored  tremendously  all  his  life 


178      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

and  that  his   strength  was  simply  wonderful. 

It  struck  Madden  as  a  strange  coincidence 
that  these  two  extreme  types  of  luxury  and 
labor  should  meet  in  this  furnace  on  the  Sar 
gasso  and  fight  for  the  trivial  reason  that  one 
offended  the  other's  sense  of  music. 

"  All  ready !  "  called  Leonard. 

The  two  men  squared  away  at  each  other, 
Caradoc  smiling  sarcastically,  Greer  grim  as  a 
gallows.  Utter  silence  fell  over  the  crowd. 
The  fighters  crouched,  bare  fists  up,  staring  at 
each  other  over  the  tips  of  their  guards. 

For  a  moment  Smith  shifted  around  his  man 
on  his  toes.  He  seemed  as  light  as  a  cat.  Greer 
stood  solid  and  merely  turned  on  his  flat  feet. 
Suddenly  Caradoc's  long  right  whipped  out  with 
a  crack  against  the  shorter  man's  forehead. 
Greer  made  no  sign  of  having  received  a  blow, 
although  a  dull  red  splotch  slowly  formed  on 
his  frontal.  Caradoc  led  another  right,  which 
Greer  blocked,  then  the  Englishman  bored 
through  with  a  stinging  left  to  the  hairy  chest. 

"  Go  af ther  him !  Kill  him !  "  cried  Hogan  to 
his  principal.  "  Nixt  toime  he  thries  to  hit  ye, 
knock  off  his  head  for  his  impidence !  " 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       179 

"Aye,  'it  'im!  Don't  take  nothin'  off  of 
'im!"  advised  two  of  the  cockneys.  Sympathy 
lay  with  the  smaller  man. 

Smith  continued  his  tiptoe  dance  and  led  a 
straight  right.  Instantly  his  massive  enemy 
ducked,  leaped  in  under  his  guard,  and  there 
came  the  dull  thud  of  in-fighting;  Greer's  black 
head  jammed  up  against  Caradoc's  chin,  his 
great  muscular  back  bent  half  double,  his  tre 
mendous  arms  working  like  pistons. 

The  crew  howled  at  this  sharp  unexpected 
attack.  Caradoc  rescued  himself  by  shoving 
open  palms  against  the  big  bulging  shoulders, 
and  pushing  himself  away  from  this  battering 
ram.  Smith  bumped  into  some  onlookers,  and 
got  behind  his  guard  some  ten  feet  away  from 
Greer.  The  Englishman's  fine-grained  stomach 
was  covered  with  pink  welts  from  his  punish 
ment.  He  had  ceased  smiling  and  was  watch 
ing  his  man  carefully.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
had  expected  to  dispose  of  Greer  easily  —  as  a 
gentleman  disposes  of  a  clod-hopper.  But  the 
heavy-set  boy's  method  of  fighting  was  new  and 
effective.  Likewise  there  seemed  to  be  a  certain 
grim  system  about  it. 


180      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  First  round  is  over ! "  called  Madden. 

"  Phwat  a  shame !  "  cried  Hogan. 

With  English  love  of  fair  fight,  the  cockneys 
divided  themselves  impartially  between  the  bat 
tlers  and  converted  themselves  into  impromptu 
rubbers  and  handlers.  There  was  perhaps  not 
a  man  in  the  crowd  who  liked  Caradoc;  never 
theless  they  hustled  him  to  his  awning,  put  him 
down  on  a  box,  procured  towels,  water,  sponges 
from  somewhere,  and  set  up  a  vigorous  fanning 
and  rubbing,  all  out  of  a  desire  to  see  fair  play. 
At  the  end  of  a  minute  they  carried  their  cham 
pions  back  and  set  them  facing  each  other  like 
human  game  cocks. 

Farnol  dashed  in  at  once,  whipping  right  and 
left  hooks  to  Smith's  sides.  Caradoc  tore  him 
self  away  and  played  for  distance,  stabbing  at 
Farnol's  head  at  long  range.  The  short  youth 
accepted  with  indifference  punishment  that  cut 
cheeks  and  lips.  He  made  rush  after  rush,  driv 
ing  Caradoc  into  the  crowd,  who  immediately 
shifted  back  and  made  room.  Time  and  again 
he  landed  terrific  short  arm  jolts  over  heart  and 
kidneys. 

The  sweating  bodies  of  the  fighters  glistened 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       181 

in  the  roasting  sunshine.  Both  were  bruised, 
Smith's  body,  Greer's  head  and  shoulders. 
Caradoc's  mouth  felt  slimy  and  he  spit  at 
nothing. 

The  fighting  went  in  spurts,  Greer  rushing 
and  Smith  dancing  away  and  stabbing.  The 
two  gangs  of  rubbers  bawled  encouragement  to 
their  men. 

"  Land  on  'is  nose  there,  Smith ! "  shouted 
Mulcher.  "  Don't  let  'im  to  ye !  Play  away, 
play  away,  me  boy!  Now  huppercut  'im! 
Huppercut  'im,  I  say ! " 

On  the  other  side,  Galton  was  shrieking 
hoarsely,  "  Bore  in,  Greer !  Bore  in,  me  lad !  " 
and  Hogan,  "  G'wan  and  mash  the  spalpeen's 
ribs!  Br-reak  his  long  nick!  Cr-rush  him! 
Why  don't  ye  hit  him  on  th'  head  and  lay  him 
out?" 

"  Time's  up !  "  announced  Madden. 

During  the  following  rounds,  Caradoc  stuck 
to  the  long  range  English  method  of  fighting, 
but  over  and  over  Farnol  broke  through  his 
guard  and  his  short-arm  jabs  spread  a  sick 
numb  feeling  over  Caradoc's  sides  and  chest. 

The  Briton  deliberately  worked  for  Greer's 


182      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

eyes.  His  first  round  with  the  silent  man  con 
vinced  him  that  he  would  never  be  able  to  stop 
that  massive  steel  body  with  a  knock-out.  On 
the  other  hand  Greer  covered  up  tightly  and 
lunged  like  a  tiger  after  Smith's  stomach  and 
endurance. 

Two  or  three  weeks  before,  Caradoc  could 
never  have  withstood  that  terrific  bombardment, 
but  his  hard  life  on  the  dock,  his  abstinence 
from  alcohol,  and  the  fact  that  tobacco  had  long 
ago  run  out,  all  this  had  armored  his  body  with 
hard  flesh. 

The  opening  of  the  twelfth  round  found  both 
fighters  blown,  bleeding  and  filled  with  a  des 
perate  determination  to  end  the  contest.  They 
formed  a  ghastly  sight  when  they  were  pitted 
in  what  proved  to  be  the  final  clash.  Greer's 
face  was  chopped  and  bleeding,  while  Caradoc's 
ribs  were  a  mass  of  bruises,  as  mottled  as  a 
leopard's  skin. 

To  Caradoc,  the  whole  dock  seemed  unsteady. 
The  sun  bored  into  the  back  of  his  head.  The 
men  had  ceased  yelling,  and  the  circle  silently 
swayed  back  and  forth  to  give  the  battlers  room. 
The  whole  scene  was  hazy  and  fantastic. 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       183 

The  Englishman  put  up  his  hands  automatically 
when  he  faced  his  enemy,  and  the  next  moment 
the  black-haired  blocky  bull  of  a  fellow  charged 
furiously.  Smith  tried  to  stop  him  with  a  heavy 
right  hand  smash,  but  his  fist  glanced  off  the 
man's  sweaty  shoulder.  The  next  moment, 
Greer's  right  landed  in  a  fierce  solid  jolt  on 
Smith's  hip  bone.  A  sickening  pain  went 
through  the  Englishman.  He  sagged  away  and 
went  down  on  a  knee,  hunched  forward,  trying 
to  protect  his  face  with  his  gloves.  Greer 
started  another  rush,  when  Madden  jumped  in, 
put  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  can't  hit  him  while  he's  down!"  he 
shouted  in  the  bull's  ear,  and  then  the  American 
began  counting:  "One,  two,  three  ..." 

Caradoc  rested  with  his  broad  chest  panting 
convulsively  up  and  down  till  the  count  of  eight. 
Then  he  sprang  backwards  away  from  his 
enemy.  Curiously  enough,  Greer  did  not  press 
his  advantage  home.  The  heavy  lad  come  for 
ward  but  stood  away  from  Caradoc,  attempting 
nothing  but  left-hand  jabs. 

In  an  instant  Smith  saw  what  was  the  matter. 
That  blow  on  the  hip  had  ruined  Greer's  right 


184      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

hand,  strained  it,  perhaps  broken  it.  Greer's 
rushes  had  stopped,  and  Smith,  who  was  a 
boxer,  not  a  fighter,  could  stand  off  and  peck 
at  his  man's  eyes  or  jaw  without  danger  to 
himself. 

He  hitched  wearily  up  to  his  enemy,  blocked 
Greer's  left  hand  and  let  his  right  have  a  full 
swing  at  his  exposed  body.  Farnol  went 
through  the  motion  of  striking,  but  his  blow 
was  a  mere  tap  and  caused  the  heavy  fellow  to 
cringe  with  pain. 

Caradoc  swung  a  light  blow  to  the  neck. 
Greer  countered  fiercely  with  his  left,  but  it 
was  parried  easily. 

Suddenly  the  crowd  understood  what  had 
happened. 

"Put  Jim  out!"  "Finish  'im!"  "Put  'im 
to  sleep !  "  bawled  a  chorus.  "  He  hit  you  below 
th'  belt  w'en  'e  broke  'is  'and! " 

Farnol  continued  his  chopping  one-armed 
fight.  "  Put  me  out!  Put  me  out!  "  he  bubbled 
furiously.  "  I  said  ye  was  a  thief !  You  are  a 
thief !  You're  a  thief ! "  and  he  accented  his 
charges  with  stabs. 

Smith  side-stepped  the  harmless  attack,  let- 


Caradoc  stands  the  acid  test. 


CARADOC  SHOWS  METTLE       185 

ting  it  slide  first  to  one  side  then  the  other. 
Both  men  were  so  tired  they  could  hardly  keep 
their  feet.  The  Englishman  looked  down  on  the 
stubborn  fellow,  with  his  chopped,  bleeding  face 
and  blackened,  defiant  eyes.  A  hard  swing  at 
his  unprotected  jaw  would  stretch  him  out  in 
the  broiling  heat,  but  he  did  not  make  the  blow. 
Instead  he  pushed  the  frothing  fellow  away 
from  him. 

"  Go  to  your  corner  and  cool  off,"  he  panted. 
"Yes,  I'm  a  thief.  Go  on  away;  I  don't  want 
to  knock  you  out." 

He  turned  his  back  deliberately  and  walked 
to  his  own  awning.  The  crowd  stared,  abso 
lutely  dumfounded  by  this  unexpected  turn  of 
affairs.  Greer  himself  stared,  then  moved  for 
ward  automatically  to  continue  his  onslaught, 
when  Hogan  grabbed  him. 

"  Come  on  back,"  cried  the  Irishman.  "  Th' 
scoundrel  has  lift  ye  no  ixcuse  to  fight  him  any 
more.  He  says  he's  a  thafe,  but  I  don't  belave 
it.  Come  git  a  wash  and  let's  wrap  up  yer 
hand." 

At  that  moment  the  dignified  voice  of  Gaskin 
came  from  the  forward  pontoon.  The  crew 


186      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

hushed  their  hot  comments  on  the  fight  to  listen. 

"A  sail,"  called  the  cook.  "A  sail  to  th' 
sou'west,  sir ! " 

Instantly  every  man  moved  forward.  The 
fight  was  forgot  in  the  great  hope  of  a  rescue. 
Even  the  gory  looking  principals  hurried  for 
ward  to  see  if  such  welcome  news  could  be  true. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN 

Etched  against  the  horizon  lay  a  stumpy 
masted  vessel  that  seemed  as  still  and  dead  as 
the  ocean  that  rotted  around  it.  She  had  not 
a  sail  aloft  nor  a  plume  of  smoke  in  her  fun 
nel.  For  the  moment  this  lifelessness  was  not 
observed  by  the  hungry  castaways.  A  joyous 
medley  arose  from  the  dock. 

"Th'  Vulcan!  Hit's  th'  Vulcan!  Th'  good 
old  Vulcan!  We'll  'ave  full  rations  t'night,  'at 
we  will!  Hurrah!" 

They  fell  to  cheering.  Voices  arose  in 
confusion. 

"Vulcan  ahoy!  Vulcan  ah-ooy!"  they  bel 
lowed  in  an  effort  to  span  the  miles  with  human 
voices. 

"  Say,  lads,  she  ain't  movin' ! "  cried  someone 
making  the  surprising  discovery. 

"  Faith    and    phwat's    th'    matter    with    her 

187 


188      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

now  ?  "  exclaimed  Hogan  in  exasperated  wonder. 

A  silence  fell  over  the  boisterous  group. 

"  Out  o'  coal,"  hazarded  Galton,  "  that's  w'y 
she  harsn't  got  back  no  sooner." 

11  Ware's  'er  sails,  then?" 

"A  tug  couldn't  do  nothin'  with  sails  —  she 
isn't  made  for  sails !  " 

"  It  ain't  w'ot  ye're  made  for,  hit's  w'ot  ye 
can  git  in  this  blarsted  sea ! " 

"Maybe  'er  machin'ry's  broke?" 

"  Maybe  they're  hall  sick?  " 

"Or  dead?" 

"Maybe " 

Madden  hurried  to  his  cabin  and  returned 
with  binoculars.  The  men  foregathered  curi 
ously  about  him  as  he  scanned  the  vessel.  He 
ran  his  eyes  over  the  tub  from  stem  to  poop. 
She  stood  out  with  absolute  distinctness  in  the 
glaring  light.  He  could  see  her  high  prow,  the 
swinging  buffers  along  her  side,  the  wide- 
mouthed  ventilators.  He  could  even  make  out 
her  name  in  rusty  letters  under  the  wheel- 
house.  Her  small  boats  were  in  place,  but  he 
saw  neither  life  nor  movement  aboard.  She 
appeared  as  deserted  as  a  pile  of  scrap  iron. 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN        189 

"Wot  are  they  doin'?"  queried  Galton. 

"Nothing."  Madden  was  puzzled  over  the 
strange  condition  of  the  tug. 

"Ain't  they  crowdin'  to  th'  side,  sir,  lookin' 
at  us  and  fixin'  to  come  to  us?  " 

"Nobody's  on  her/'  replied  Madden.  "At 
least  I  don't  see  anyone." 

"Wot!  Wot!  Nobody  on  'er!  Is  she 
deserted,  too?  Just  like  the  Minnie  B!" 
chorused  apprehensive  voices. 

"  Seems  so,"  frowned  Madden,  then  he  made 
up  his  mind  quickly  and  moved  over  to  the 
small  boat  which  had  been  hauled  up  on  the 
forward  pontoon. 

"Fall  to,  men,  lower  that  dinghy.  We'll  go 
over  and  see  what's  the  trouble." 

The  crew  went  about  their  task  with  a  sudden 
slump  of  enthusiasm. 

"If  the  crew's  gone,  sir,"  mumbled  one  of 
the  men,  as  he  paid  out  the  rope,  "w'ot's  the 
use  goin'  across?  v 

v  To  get  to  the  tug,  of  course." 

"An'  w'ot'llwedo?" 

Madden  looked  hard  at  the  cockney.  "  Get 
the  provisions  aboard  if  nothing  else." 


190      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  There  wasn't  none  on  the  Minnie  Bf  sir." 

"  What's  the  Minnie  B  got  to  do  with  the 
Vulcan?  We're  going  to  run  the  tug  and  dock 
out  of  this  sea,  crew  or  no  crew  —  ease  away 
on  that  rope,  Mulcher.  Let  go!  Now  climb 
down,  Galton,  loose  the  tackle  and  swing  her  in 
alongside  the  ladder." 

When  the  cockneys  obeyed,  Madden  ordered 
the  whole  crew  into  the  small  boat.  They 
climbed  down  the  ladder  one  by  one  with  a 
reluctance  Madden  did  not  quite  understand  at 
the  time. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  the  little  boat,  loaded 
down  to  her  gunwales,  set  out  for  the  tug. 
Four  oarsmen  rowed,  one  man  to  the  oar.  The 
slow  clacking  of  shafts  in  tholes  echoed  sharply 
from  the  huge  walls  of  the  dock  as  the  dinghy 
drew  away  through  the  burning  sunshine. 

At  some  half-mile  distance,  the  harsh  outlines 
of  the  walls  and  pontoons  changed  subtly  into 
a  great  wine-red  castle,  that  lay  on  a  colorful 
tapestry  of  seaweed,  with  a  background  of  blue 
ocean  and  bronze  sky. 

As  he  drew  away,  Madden  had  a  premonition 
that  the  dock  was  vanishing  out  of  his  life  and 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN        191 

sight,  that  never  again  would  he  live  in  its  great 
walls.  Like  all  crafts  in  this  mysterious  sea,  it 
seemed  completely  forsaken,  deserted.  With  a 
shake  of  his  shoulders  he  put  the  thought  from 
him  and  turned  to  face  the  future  in  the  motion 
less  tug  that  lay  ahead. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  dinghy  drew  along 
side  the  silent  Vulcan  and  the  crew  clambered 
aboard.  As  they  had  suspected,  there  was  no 
sign  of  the  tug's  crew  aboard. 

Although  the  binoculars  had  forewarned  them 
of  this,  the  adventurers  bunched  together  on  the 
deck  with  a  qualmish  feeling  and  began  talking 
in  low  tones,  as  men  converse  in  the  presence  of 
mystery,  or  death. 

"  We'll  search  her  first/'  directed  Madden,  in 
a  tone  he  tried  to  make  natural. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Greer,  "and,  men,  keep  a 
sharp  eye  out  for  lunatics.  Don't  let  anything 
jump  on  you " 

"  Lunatics !  "  gasped  Mulcher. 

"Greer  and  I  fancied  someone  scuttled  the 
Minnie  B"  explained  Madden  with  a  frown, 
"  but  that's  no  sign  such  a  person  is  aboard  the 
Vulcan." 


192      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  They  are  wonderful  like,  sir,"  observed 
Gaskin. 

"  Anyway  we'll  look  her  over." 

The  men  agreed  and  began  scattering  away, 
two  by  two  for  companionship.  Presently  from 
the  port  side  Hogan  raised  his  voice  guardedly. 

"Oh,  Misther  Madden,  just  stip  this  way  a 
moment,  if  you  plaze." 

The  call  instantly  attracted  several  other  men. 
They  moved  across  deck.  Hogan  was  pointing. 
"  Jist  th'  same  as  th'  other  wan,"  he  said 
gloomily  and  significantly.  "  We  knew  it  would 
be  this  way,  sir.  It  was  th'  same  hand  as  done 
it." 

Leonard  looked  with  rising  dismay  at  the 
sinister  parallel. 

The  Vulcan  also  was  lying  at  sea  anchor. 

In  brief,  here  was  conclusive  proof  that  the 
tug  had  been  abandoned  deliberately  and  with 
forethought  by  Malone,  Captain  Black  and  the 
whole  Vulcan  crew.  Moreover,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  Minnie  B,  they  had  deserted  their  ship 
without  taking  a  boat  or  even  so  much  as  a 
life  buoy. 

The  amazed  group  of  men  collected   about 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN        193 

them  other  members  of  the  searching  party, 
who  stuck  their  heads  out  of  ports  and  doors 
now  and  then  to  see  that  no  evil  magic  had  set 
the  rigging  in  flames. 

"  They  all  go  th'  same  way,"  mumbled  Hogan, 
staring  at  the  anchor  and  wetting  his  dry  lips. 
"  Oi'm  thinkin'  it'll  be  our  toime  nixt." 

"  Piffle,"  derided  the  American  half-heartedly. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  what  happens,"  put 
in  Caradoc,  "  we'll  see  the  thing  through." 

For  some  reason  the  men  thought  better  of 
Smith  since  the  fight  and  his  crisp  announce 
ment  cheered  them  somewhat. 

"  She's  got  plenty  o'  coal,"  volunteered  Galton. 

"  'Er  engines  look  all  right,"  contributed 
Mulcher,  "  though  I  know  bloomin'  little  about 
hengines." 

"  I  weesh  I  knew  what  happened  to  the  men," 
worried  Deschaillon  in  his  filed-down  accent. 

"  My  quistion  ixactly,  Frinchy,"  nodded 
Hogan  emphatically.  "  Misther  Madden  says 
'Piffle/  but  Oi  say  where  are  they  piffled  to? 
Did  they  go  over  in  a  storm,  or  die  of  fever,  or 
run  crazy  with  heat?  " 

"  They  didn't  starve,"  declared  Mulcher,  "  for 


194      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

some  of  th'  fellows  are  in  th'  cook's  galley  now 
eatin'." 

Madden  lifted  his  hand  for  attention, 
"  There's  no  use  speculating  on  what  has  hap 
pened.  It's  our  job  to  get  dock  and  tug  to  the 
nearest  port." 

"  But  suppose  —  suppose " 

"  Suppose  what?  " 

"Suppose  th'  thing  gits  arfter  us,  sir?" 

Madden  stared,  "Thing  —  what  thing?" 

The  cockney  frowned,  looked  glumly  across 
deck.  Galton  answered, 

"W'y,  sir,  th'  thing  that  run  th'  crew  hoff 
the  Minnie  B  an'  hoff  th'  Vulcan.  Crews  don't 
'op  hoff  in  th'  hocean  for  amoosement,  sir. 
Some'n'  done  hit  an'  that's  sure." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  object  to  sailing  this 
tug  on  account  of  some  imaginary  thing?" 
demanded  Madden  in  utter  surprise. 

"  Imaginary,  sir !  "  protested  Mulcher.  "  If 
you  please,  us  lads  on  th'  dock,  the  night  th' 
Minnie  B  sunk,  saw  something  swim  off  to  th' 
south  wrapped  hall  over  in  fire,  sir.  Imaginary 
thing!  It  bit  a  'ole  in  th'  Minnie  B  an'  sunk 
'er,  sir!" 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN        195 

This  recalled  to  Leonard's  mind  the  peculiar 
phenomenon  he  had  witnessed  at  the  sinking  of 
the  Minnie  B. 

"What  do  you  think  the  thing  is?"  he 
temporized. 

"A  —  A  sea  sorpint,  sir,"  stammered  a  cock 
ney  embarrassed. 

"  Sea  serpent !  Sea  serpent !  "  scouted  the 
American.  "  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  sea 
serpent!" 

"That's  w'ot  th'  hofficers  always  say," 
growled  Mulcher. 

"  But  it  is  a  scientific  fact  —  there's  no  such 
thing." 

The  well-fed  Gaskin,  who  formed  one  of  the 
group,  made  a  bob.  "  That  may  well  be,  sor," 
he  said  in  solemn  deference,  "  but  w'ether  there 
is  or  isn't  such  a  thing,  sor,  it's  'orrible  to  see, 
either  way." 

From  the  banding  of  the  men  against  him, 
Madden  became  aware  that  they  had  decided 
on  the  real  cause  of  the  mystery  behind  his 
back,  and  he  would  have  hard  work  to  argue 
them  out  of  the  sea  serpent  idea. 

"  You  boys  saw  a  shark  or  porpoise  swim- 


196      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

ming    away    from    that    schooner/'    he    began 
patiently.     "  I  saw  it  myself.     You  recall,  on 
that  night  anything  that  moved  in  the  water 
burned  like  fire.     The  ship  was  brilliant,  the 
oars  of  the  dinghy  shone.    The  thing  you  saw 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  schooner." 
"  Then  w'ot  sunk  'er,  sor?  " 
"  Aye,  an*  w'ot  come  of  'er  men,  sor  ?  " 
"  Aye,  an  w'ot  come  of  th'  Vulcan's  crew?  " 
"  Could  a  sea  serpent  put  out  a  sea  anchor?  " 
retorted  Leonard. 

The    men    stared    doggedly    at    their    chief. 
"  We  don't  know,  sor." 
"  You  do  know  that  it  is  impossible ! " 
"  If  there  ain't  no  such  thing,  sor,  'ow  do  we 
know  w'ot  it  can  do?"  questioned  Gaskin. 

"  Then  do  you  want  to  go  back  and  stay  on 
the  dock  and  starve?  "  cried  Madden  at  the  end 
of  his  patience. 

There  was  a  silence  at  the  anger  in  his  tone, 
then  Gaskin  began  very  placatingly,  "  Hi'm  not 
wishin'  to  chafe  ye,  sor,  but  th'  dock  is  so  big 
th'  lads  'ave  decided  the  sorpint  is  afraid  o'  th' 
dock." 

At    Leonard's    impatient    gesture    he    added 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN        197 

hastily,  "  Not  that  Hi  believe  in  such  things, 
sor,  but  Hi  carn't  'elp  but  notice  that  hever'body 
on  th'  dock  is  alive,  an*  hever'body  on  th'  other 
two  wessels  is  dead  an'  gone,  sor." 

Madden  turned  sharply  on  his  heel.  "Any 
body  who  knows  anything  about  marine  engines, 
follow  me/'  he  snapped.  "  We  must  study  out 
a  way  to  start  the  Vulcan's  machinery.  We're 
going!" 

As  he  moved  down  to  the  doorway  amidship 
that  led  below,  he  heard  Galton  mumble :  "  Yes, 
we'll  be  going,  Hi  think,  down  some  sea  sor- 
pint's  scaly  throat,  but  th'  tug  an'  th'  dock'll 
stay  'ere." 

If  a  view  of  the  Minnie  B's  auxiliary  engines 
had  put  hopeful  notions  in  Madden's  head  of 
puzzling  out  their  control  by  mere  inspection,  a 
single  glance  at  the  huge  machinery  of  the 
Vulcan  filled  him  with  despair. 

The  tug's  hull  was  practically  filled  with  a 
maze  of  machinery.  Her  engines  arose  in  a 
tower  of  bracings,  wheels,  gearing,  pistons, 
steam  pipes,  steam  valves,  with  a  multitude  of 
the  eccentrics  and  trip  gearings  used  on  quad 
ruple  expansion  engines. 


198      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Although  he  had  seen  hundreds  of  steam 
engines,  never  before  had  Madden  realized  their 
complication  until  he  faced  the  problem  of  run 
ning  this  difficult  fabric.  His  proposed  task 
made  him  realize  that  the  engineer's  apprentice, 
who  serves  four  years  amid  oil  and  iron  black, 
learning  all  the  details  of  these  mechanical  mon 
sters,  is  probably  just  as  well  educated,  just  as 
capable  of  exact  and  sustained  thought,  as  the 
lad  who  spends  four  years  in  college  construing 
dead  tongues. 

Madden  could  construe  dead  tongues,  or  at 
least  could  when  he  left  college  a  few  months 
back,  but  now  his  life,  the  life  of  his  crew,  the 
salving  of  the  dock,  and  the  winning  of  a  pos 
sible  fortune,  depended  upon  his  answering  the 
riddle  of  this  Twentieth  Century  Sphinx.  It 
was  like  attempting  to  understand  all  mathe 
matics,  from  addition  to  celestial  mechanics,  at 
a  glance. 

Nevertheless,  Madden's  training  as  a  civil 
engineer  gave  him  a  certain  aptitude  for  his 
formidable  undertaking  and  he  set  about  it  with 
rat-like  patience. 

He  picked  out  the  main  steam  pipe,  larger 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN        199 

than  his  body,  covered  with  painted  white  can 
vas,  and  followed  this  till  he  discovered  the 
throttle,  a  steel  wheel  with  hand  grips  with 
which  he  could  choke  the  breath  out  of  the 
monster  engines.  Beside  this  were  control 
levers.  On  the  steam  chest  lay  a  half-smoked 
cigarette,  as  if  the  engineer  had  been  called 
suddenly  away  from  his  post. 

Madden  turned  the  throttle,  pushed  the  levers 
back  and  forth,  and  listened  to  clicking  sounds 
high  up  in  the  complexity  of  the  engines.  He 
knew  that  every  lever  threw  long  systems  of 
vents  and  valves  in  and  out  of  play.  A  wrong 
combination  would  easily  wreck  all  this  power 
ful  machinery.  He  was  tackling  a  delicate  job 
—  like  juggling  a  car-load  of  dynamite. 

An  oil  can  sat  under  the  throttle.  The  ama 
teur  engineer  picked  up  this  and  a  handful  of 
greasy  tow.  Engines  require  constant  oiling. 
Madden  had  never  watched  an  engineer  ten 
minutes  but  that  he  went  about  poking  a  long 
crooked-necked  oil  can  into  all  sorts  of  hidden 
inaccessible  places. 

Madden  thought  if  he  tried  to  oil  the  engine, 
he  might  learn  something  about  it.  He  glanced 


200      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

around  for  the  usual  myriad  little  shining  brass 
oil  cups  stuck,  one  on  each  bearing.  To  his 
surprise,  he  saw  none.  The  machinery  of  the 
Vulcan  was  lubricated  by  a  circulatory  com 
pression  system,  which  used  the  same  oil  over 
and  over.  Madden  did  not  know  this,  so  it 
threw  him  off  the  track  at  his  first  step. 

No  one  had  followed  the  boy  into  the  engine 
room,  so  now  he  was  about  to  go  on  deck  and 
commandeer  a  squad,  when,  to  his  surprise,  Gal- 
ton  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  circular  stairs, 
whistling  a  rather  cheerful  tune.  He  leaned 
over  the  rail  and  called  down  heartily: 

"Do  you  want  me,  Mr.  Madden?" 

"  Yes,  come  along.  I  wish  you  knew  some 
thing  about  machinery." 

Galton  laughed  buoyantly.  "  I'm  not  such 
a  chump  at  hit,  sor,"  he  recommended. 

"You  know  something  about  it?"  inquired 
Madden  in  surprise. 

"  A  bit,  a  bit,  Mr.  Madden.  My  brother 
Charley  is  chief  engineer  on  the  Rajah  in  the 
P  &  O,  sor." 

"Ever  work  under  him?"  asked  the  Amer 
ican  hopefully. 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN       201 

"Two  years,  only  two  years,  sor.  Never 
did  finish  my  term  an'  get  my  papers.  Often's 
the  time  Vs  begged  me  to  do  it,  Mr.  Madden. 
'E'd  say,  "Enry,  me  boy,  w'y  don't  ye  finish 
your  term  and  git  a  screw  o'  sixteen  pun'  per, 
but  I  was  allus  a " 

"That's  all  right!"  cried  Leonard  delight 
edly.  "I  don't  care  whether  you're  a  full- 
fledged  engineer  or  not.  You're  hired  for  this 
job.  Understand?  You'll  get  full  wages,  and 
then  some.  I'll " 

"Oh!  I  can  'andle  a  little  hengine  like  this, 
sor.  That's  th'  inspirator,  sor,"  he  pointed. 
"That's  th'  steam  chist.  In  th'  other  end  is 
th'  condensing  chamber.  That  little  hegg- 
shaped  thing  is " 

"That's  all  right;  I'm  no  examining  board. 
Just  so  you  can  run  it  and  keep  it  running. 
Now  I'll  get  a  gang  at  the  furnace,  if  the  boys 
have  got  over  their  sea-serpent  scare  by  this 
time." 

"They're  jolly  well  over  that,  sor.  Me  and 
Mulcher  'ave  decided  as  'ow  we're  goin'  to 
kill  that  sea  sorpint,  if  it  comes  a-bitin'  into 
our  tug,  sor." 


202      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Madden  looked  at  his  willing  helper  curi 
ously.  "  Kill  it  —  how  are  you  going  to  kill  it?  " 

"  Dead,  sor,  yes,  kill  it  dead,  sor."  Galton 
nodded  solemnly,  "My  brother  Charley,  cap'n 
o'  th'  Cambria,  sir,  in  th'  'Amburg-American 
Line,  'e  learned  me  to  kill  sea  sorpints,  w'en 
I  was  jest  a  1-little  bit  of  a  —  a  piker,  sor.  An* 
I  n-never  forgot  'ow  'e  told  me  to  do  it.  You 
climb  up  th'  mainmast,  sor,  w'ere  you  can  git  at 
their  'eads,  cross  your  fingers  for  luck,  an'  blow 
tobacco  smoke  in  their  eyes.  They  'ate  tobacco 
smoke  an " 

Leonard  stared  at  the  fellow,  with  a  sinking 
heart.  He  was  drunk.  As  to  whether  he  knew 
anything  about  marine  engines  or  not,  there 
was  no  way  to  find  out. 

The  effect  of  the  long  strain  of  heat,  hunger 
and  anxiety  now  told  on  Madden  in  a  wave  of 
unreasonable  exasperation. 

"  You  boozy  fool !  "  snapped  the  officer,  "  you 
haven't  sense  enough  to  run  a  go-cart.  Go 
down  and  start  a  fire  in  the  furnace  —  can  you 
do  that?" 

"  Shertainly,"  nodded  Galton  gravely,  "  Mr. 
Madden,  I  can  do  anything.  Go  bring  me  th1 


RETURN  OF  THE  VULCAN       203 

furnace,  and  I'll  put  a  fire  in  it  that  quick.  I'll 
start  it  now." 

Here  he  stooped  unsteadily,  picked  up  a  piece 
of  oily  tow,  and  before  Madden  knew  what  he 
was  about,  drew  out  a  match  and  set  fire  to  the 
greasy  mass. 

Leonard  made  a  jump,  planted  a  cracking 
blow  between  Galton's  eyes.  The  fellow  went 
down  like  a  tenpin  and  lay  still.  The  American 
stamped  out  the  blazing  tow  before  the  fire 
spread  on  the  oily  floor. 

Just  then  he  heard  a  yelling  from  the  upper 
deck.  Hardly  knowing  what  to  expect,  he  dived 
for  the  circular  stairway  and  rushed  up  three 
steps  at  a  jump. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  SEA  SERPENT 

When  a  new  crew  is  shipped  on  an  old  vessel, 
the  mate's  first  duty  is  to  search  the  sailors' 
dunnage  for  whiskey;  when  an  old  crew  is 
shipped  on  a  new  vessel,  that  officer  would  do 
well  to  search  the  vessel  for  rum. 

Madden  had  neglected  this.  While  the 
American  was  in  the  engine  room,  the  cockneys 
in  the  cook's  galley  had  found  intoxicants,  had 
poured  raw  whiskey  into  their  empty  stomachs 
and  the  result  was  the  quickest  and  most  com 
plete  intoxication.  When  Madden  regained  the 
deck  he  found  his  crew  singing,  laughing,  fight 
ing,  quarreling  in  an  absurd  medley. 

Deschaillon  roared  out  a  French  song.  Two 
cockneys  quarreled  bitterly  over  what  words 
he  was  saying.  Mike  Hogan  jigged  to  the 
Frenchman's  tune,  but  shouted  as  he  danced 
that  he  was  spoiling  for  a  fight.  The  smell  of 

204 


THE  SEA  SERPENT  205 

spirits  reeked  over  the  tug  as  if  someone  had 
sprinkled  her  deck  with  liquor. 

Madden  looked  with  anxious  eyes  for  Car- 
adoc,  but  did  not  see  him.  Smith  was  probably 
stuck  away  in  some  hole,  senseless  with  poison, 
his  effort  at  sobriety  frustrated,  his  moral  cour 
age  shattered,  his  weeks  of  painful  reform 
smashed. 

Whatever  humor  there  might  have  been  in 
the  ill-starred  situation  was  destroyed  for 
Madden  by  his  friend's  moral  relapse.  It  was 
much  as  if  some  invalid,  nursing  a  broken  leg, 
should  fall  and  break  it  over  again. 

Gaskin  was  the  first  man  who  came  in  reach 
of  the  wrathful  American.  Madden  caught  his 
arm,  whirled  him  about. 

"You  ladle  rum  out  to  these  hogs?"  he 
blazed. 

Gaskin  revolved  with  dignity  and  considered 
his  accuser.  "You  wouldn't  think  Hi'd  do 
such  a  thing,  sor ! " 

"  Then  how  did  they  get  it?  "  Leonard  shook 
the  fat  arm  sharply. 

"In  spite  o'  me,  sor!  In  spite  o'  me!" 
defended  the  cook,  shaking  his  fat  jowls  ear- 


206      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

nestly.  "  Hi  rebooked  'em,  sor.  Says  Hi, 
'  Gents,  this  is  looting  it  is  piratin',  it  is '  " 

"You  should  have  refused  them  a   drop!" 

"  Refuse  —  Hi  did  refuse,  sor !  Hi  did  more. 
Hi  blocked  'em!  Hi  —  Hi  fought  hout,  like  a 
demon,  sor!  There  were  too  many!  Hover- 
powered  me,  sor,  they  did!  I  was  fightin'  and 
blocking  fightin'  and  blocking  like  a  d-demon, 
sor,  b-but  —  b-but " 

Here  Gaskin's  utterance  grew  thicker,  his  fat 
head  bobbed,  then  he  slithered  down  by  the 
rail  in  the  hot  sunshine;  his  face  stared  sky 
ward  and  stewed  sweat  in  the  terrific  heat. 
Madden  gave  a  grunt  of  disgust.  Gaskin  was 
fast  asleep. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done.  The  men 
were  drunk  and  he  would  have  to  wait  till  they 
became  sober  before  making  an  attempt  to  run 
the  Vulcan.  He  stood  a  moment,  staring  dis 
gustedly  at  his  useless  crew,  then  finally  stooped 
and  dragged  Gaskin  to  the  shady  side  of  the 
superstructure.  As  he  passed  with  his  burden 
some  of  the  men  made  clumsy  tangle-footed 
efforts  to  salute. 

In  the  shade  Leonard   found  a   deck  chair, 


THE  SEA  SERPENT  207 

perched  himself  on  its  arm  so  as  not  to  touch 
its  hot  canvas,  and  sat  brooding  glumly.  He 
banished  the  drunken  uproar  from  his  brain  and 
began  totting  up  his  prospects  for  escape  from 
this  foully  beautiful  sea.  His  mind  jumped 
from  topic  to  topic  in  an  exhausted  fashion.  He 
wondered  whether  or  not  Galton  really  knew 
anything  of  marine  engines?  If  the  dock  would 
be  discovered  by  a  passing  ship?  If  the  tug's 
crew  had  really  gone  demented  and  leaped  over 
board?  If  there  were  any  connection  between 
the  fate  of  the  Minnie  B  and  the  Vulcan? 

It  seemed  to  Madden  that  he  had  been  in  the 
heat  and  brilliant  garishness  of  the  Sargasso 
for  centuries.  He  wondered  if  the  men  would 
become  so  starved  that  they  would  draw  lots 
to  see  who  should  be  killed  and  eaten. 

Anything,  everything,  was  possible  in  this  iso 
lated  sea.  Its  normal  happenings  were  unrea 
sonable.  It  was  a  place  of  madness.  He 
recalled  the  words  of  the  navvy  on  the  London 
dock,  "  Everything  is  unreasonable  at  sea." 
Certainly  that  was  true  of  the  vast  stewing 
labyrinth  of  the  Sargasso.  He  had  lived  abnor 
mally  so  long  that  it  seemed  strange  to  him  now 


208      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

to  think  that  there  were  comfortable,  well- 
ordered  places  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Just 
as  one  cannot  imagine  snow  and  ice  in  the 
depth  of  summer,  so  Madden  could  not  imagine 
the  simple  comforts  of  life.  It  seemed  to  him 
the  whole  world  shriveled  under  a  furnace  heat. 

Such  heat,  such  congestion,  he  thought,  might 
well  breed  sea-monsters.  After  all,  why  should 
there  not  be  a  sea  monster?  Who  could  be  sure 
that  the  old  megalosauri,  and  megalichthys  were 
extinct?  Those  monsters  existed  once  upon  a 
time,  certainly.  He  was  half  persuaded  that 
they  still  existed. 

A  sea  serpent! 

He  wondered  what  a  sea  serpent  would  look 
like?  One  might  well  drive  a  man  insane,  cause 
him  to  leap  overboard  in  utter  horror. 

His  feverish  brooding  was  interrupted  by  a 
wild  flood  of  abuse  from  the  starboard  deck. 
It  was  Galton's  voice  bellowing: 

"Were  is  'e?  Were  is  that  bloody  Hameri- 
can?  'E  'it  me!  'It  me  in  th'  eye  for  trying  to 
'elp  'im!  You  lads  goin'  to  see  me  murdered 
for  nothin'?" 

Came     a     medley     of     drunken     questions: 


THE  SEA  SERPENT  209 

"W'ot's  th'  matter?  Who  bloodied  your 
bloomin'  eyes?  Wot  'appened?" 

"  That  Hamerican  chap ! "  bawled  Galton 
savagely.  "  'E  'it  me  for  'elpin'  'im  make  a 
fire!  Coin'  to  see  me  run  over  an'  killed?" 

"Faith  Oi  didn't  see  nawthin',"  panted 
Malone,  fresh  from  his  dance 

"Won't  you  stan'  by  a  Hinglishman? " 
shouted  the  battered  one. 

"Sure  we  will!" 

"We're  Hinglish!" 

"Le's  'lect  'nother  hofficer  an'  court  martial 
'im ! "  bawled  the  sailor  venomously. 

"Sure,  make  'im  walk  a  plank!" 

"Son  of  a  shark!" 

"Man-killin'  crimp!" 

The  whole  crew  came  lurching  around  toward 
Madden,  filled  with  the  wordy  anger  of  intoxi 
cated  men. 

The  American  arose  to  his  feet  with  little 
emotion  save  a  return  of  his  old  disgust.  He 
knew  he  could  defend  himself  from  any  assault 
the  crew  might  make  in  that  condition.  But 
they  made  none.  They  stopped  a  little  way 
from  him,  some  drunkenly  grave,  others  wink- 


210      CRUISE  OF.  THE  DRY  DOCK 

ing  or  leering,  some  abusive  and  threatening. 

"  Go'n'  tuh  'lect  Another  captain/'  announced 
Mulcher  thickly.  "  You  no  reg'lar  hofficer !  " 

"You  'it  a  man  for  'elpin'  you,  and  'urt  'is 
eye!" 

"  Make  'im  walk  a  plank! "  flared  out  Galton, 
shaking  a  big  fist  at  Leonard.  "  Make  'im  walk 
a  plank!"  Leonard  observed  that  the  fellow's 
nose  and  forehead  were  badly  bruised,  and  dark 
circles  had  settled  under  his  eyes.  He  started 
for  Madden,  when  Hogan  caught  him  under  the 
arms. 

"Phwat  you  talkin'  about,  old  scout?  Walk 
a  plank  —  you  have  to  court  martial  him  first." 

"  I  don't  b'lieve  'e  can  walk  a  plank,"  sur 
mised  a  cockney  gravely.  "  'E's  too  drunk;  'e'd 
fall  hoff." 

"  Where's  Farnol  Greer,  Mulcher  ?  "  snapped 
Madden  disgustedly.  "Is  he  drunk,  too?" 

"  D-drunk  —  you  don't  think  we're  drunk, 
sor?" 

"  We  'ave  been  drinkin'  a  little,  sor,  but  we're 
not  drunk." 

"  Oi  am,"  nodded  Hogan,  resting  his  chin  on 
Gallon's  shoulder  as  if  from  deep  affection. 


THE  SEA  SERPENT  211 

"Oi  don't  a —  ack  loike  it,  you  —  hie  —  you 
couldn't  tell  it  on  me,  b-but  Oi  —  Oi  —  Oi'm 
drunk,  aw  roight." 

"  I  theenk  Greer  ees  in  the  cook's  galley," 
smiled  Deschaillon,  who  appeared  to  be  rational ; 
then  he  added  coolly :  "  Eef  there  ees  any 
fighting,  I  weel  help  you,  Meester  Madden." 

"Cook's  galley!"  sputtered  Mulcher.  "  'E's 
drinkin'  hit  ever'  drop,  lads ;  come  on ! " 

"An'  th'  grub,  too!"  added  Hogan. 

This  news  completely  disorganized  the  court 
martial  and  election  committee.  Galton  himself 
forgot  his  revenge  in  his  thirst.  They  started 
aft  pellmell  in  confused  haste  to  help  Greer 
finish  the  rum. 

Leonard  made  no  objection.  They  were 
already  drunk.  They  might  as  well  dispose  of 
the  liquor  once  for  all,  and  then  it  would  trouble 
discipline  no  more. 

When  the  men  and  their  turmoil  had  dis 
appeared,  Madden  remained  on  deck,  filled  with 
a  dull,  heavy  feeling  of  lassitude  and  bitterness. 
It  was  one  of  those  moments  when  a  man's 
hope  is  swamped  in  present  difficulties. 

The  sun  swung  slowly  down  into  the  western 


212      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

sea,  and  its  reflections  made  long  blinding 
streaks  in  the  Sargasso.  Its  yellow  light  trans 
formed  the  great  red  dock  into  an  orange  struc 
ture  that  rested  on  the  sea  as  lightly  as  the 
pavilions  of  the  evening  clouds. 

The  perpetual  bizarre  beauty  of  the  scene 
was  tiring  to  the  youth.  For  some  reason  he 
thought  again  of  the  sea  serpent.  It  occurred 
to  Madden  that  an  enormous  scaly  thing,  in 
vivid  spangling  colors,  embossed  with  sword- 
like  spines,  with  a  long  convoluted  tail,  huge 
red-fanged  mouth,  would  be  in  keeping  with  the 
scene  before  him,  would  indeed  produce  a  gor 
geously  decorative  effect,  such  as  he  had  seen 
in  Chinese  pictures. 

His  thoughts  took  all  sorts  of  queer  turns. 
He  wondered  what  he  would  do  if  he  should 
see  such  a  creature?  He  walked  over  and  stood 
by  the  rail,  staring  intently  into  the  colorful 
west,  half  expecting  to  see  some  wild  dragon 
of  his  imagination.  If  it  should  come,  he 
wished  for  a  camera1 — a  moving  picture 
camera.  A  moving  picture  of  a  dragon  attack 
ing  a  ship! 

Just   then  he   caught  a   strange   noise  that 


THE  SEA  SERPENT  213 

seemed  to  emanate  from  the  air  above  his  head. 
He  stood  quite  still,  hands  on  rail,  listening. 
It  was  repeated.  It  was  a  human  noise.  It 
seemed  to  come  from  the  vacant  bronze-colored 
sky  above  his  head.  He  wondered  if  he  were 
going  insane?  Just  then  he  caught  sight  of 
Caradoc's  torso  thrust  out  from  a  barrel  up 
in  the  shrouding  of  the  foremast.  The  crew  of 
the  Vulcan  had  run  up  the  barrel  like  a  whaler's 
lookout  to  post  a  watch.  Into  this  barrel 
Caradoc  had  climbed. 

The  face  of  Smith  wore  a  strained,  desperate 
look.  Madden  stared  at  him  for  several  sec 
onds,  quite  taken  aback  by  finding  him  in  such 
an  unexpected  place.  One  thing,  however,  filled 
the  American  with  deep  gratification.  The  man 
was  not  drunk. 

"What  you  doing  up  there ?"  called  Madden 
in  surprise. 

Caradoc's  broad  shoulders  sagged  drearily. 
"I  don't  know,"  he  said  dully.  "I  fancy  I 
might  as  well  jump  overboard  and  be  done 
with  it." 

Madden  became  instantly  alert.  "  Jump  over 
board!  What  for?"  A  sudden  thought  hit 


214      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

him.  Maybe  this  was  the  way  they  all  went? 
Then  another  fear  entered  his  heart. 

"  Say,  have  you  seen  anything  up  there, 
Smith?  ...  A  dragon,  or  ...  sea  serpent, 
or  .  .  ."  Madden  stared  dumbfounded  at  his 
friend,  marveling  what  manner  of  sight  had 
put  suicidal  thoughts  into  Smith's  head. 

"Heavens,  yes  .  .  .  dragons,  dragons, 
dragons ! " 

A  weak,  watery  feeling  went  through  Mad- 
den's  legs.  He  felt  doddery.  "  Many  drag 
ons  ! "  All  idea  of  beauty  was  lost  in  grisly 
horror. 

"W-wait  a  m-minute!"  he  chattered. 
"D-don't  j-jump  —  I'm  coming  up  th-there!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 
CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT 

Trembling  all  over,  Madden  gained  the  bar 
rel  and  stepped  through  a  niche  in  its  side.  He 
stared  through  the  brilliant,  hot  colors,  but  no 
rushing  horde  of  monsters  met  his  eyes. 

"Which  way?"  he  asked  breathlessly. 

Caradoc  looked  around  at  him  in  uncompre 
hending  misery.  There  was  just  room  for  the 
two  in  the  barrel.  Smith  seemed  to  put  his 
mind  to  Madden's  question  with  an  effort. 

"  Which  —  what  did  you  say?" 

"Which  way?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  The  dragons,  man,  the  dragons !  " 

"  Dragons  —  right  here !  "  Smith  beat  his 
broad  chest,  then  waved  his  long  arms  about. 
"Everywhere  —  don't  you  smell  it?" 

The  idea  of  smelling  dragons  confused  the 
American.  "  Smell  what?  " 

215 


216      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  The  whiskey !  "  shivered  Caradoc.  "  I  came 
up  here  to  get  away  from  it." 

"  Oh  —  so  you  didn't  see  —  I  understand !  " 

"It's  tantalizing  —  horrible!"  he  shivered 
again,  as  if  the  superheated  air  chilled  him. 

The  American's  own  foolish  fancies  vanished 
in  the  face  of  his  friend's  real  trouble.  Caradoc 
had  met  a  dragon  more  terrible  than  the  Sar 
gasso  could  conjure  up,  and  its  fangs  were  in 
his  heart.  His  flight  to  the  crow's  nest  had 
been  an  effort  to  escape  its  fury,  but  it  had 
followed  him  there.  Leonard  put  a  hand  on 
his  friend's  shoulder.  He  was  at  a  loss  what 
to  say.  Indeed  there  was  nothing  to  say. 

"Habit  —  queer  thing,  Leonard  —  I  thought 
I  was  all  right." 

"Yes?" 

"  You  see,  in  college  I  used  to  take  an  alcohol 
rub-down  after  my  bouts,  and  a  drink.  And 
now,  after  my  fight  at  noon  —  smelling  this  — 
you  don't  know  how  it  brings  it  back,  appetite, 

recollections,  everything "  he  waved  his 

hands  hopelessly  again. 

"  Don't  think  of  it.  Put  your  mind  on  some 
thing  else." 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      217: 

Caradoc  gave  a  short  mirthless  laugh. 
"Stand  in  a  fire  —  and  consider  the  lilies?" 

"  We've  got  to  consider  how  we'll  ever 
get  out  of  here,  if  we  can't  run  this  tug's 
engines  ..." 

"We're  stuck!  We're  stuck!"  declared  the 
Englishman  miserably.  "I  don't  see  why  I 
don't  go  down  and  be  a  hog  again  .  .  .  we'll 
finally  starve  .  .  .  Somehow  I  had  a  mind 
to  die  sober  .  .  .  God  knows  why  I  ever 
came  on  such  a  junket.  " 

"  Starve  nothing.  We'll  get  out  somehow. 
We  can  fish  and  eat  seaweed  and  distill  our 
own  water.  I  can  make  a  still.  And  you'll 
get  over  that  appetite.  Bound  to  —  can't  last 
always." 

Smith  relapsed  into  silence,  staring  over  the 
dying  colors  of  the  sea.  Madden  tried  to  think 
of  simple  remedies  to  abate  a  drunkard's  appe 
tite  for  alcohol.  He  had  heard  of  apples,  lemon 
juice,  but  both  were  as  unobtainable  as  the  gold 
cure  itself. 

"How  long  have  you  been  like  this?"  he 
asked  at  last. 

"  Been  bad  two  or  three  years.    Drank  some 


218      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

all  my  life.  My  governor  taught  it  to  me  when 
I  was  a  baby.  Then  when  I  got  older  if  I  went 
too  far  he  kicked.  Naturally  I  intended  to  stop 
in  time,  till  I  slipped  in  deep." 

Leonard  nodded  understandingly.  "  It  always 
gets  a  nervous  high-strung  fellow.  The  better 
stuff  you  are  the  harder  it  hits  you." 

Caradoc  stared  moodily  seaward  as  he  con 
tinued  his  recollections. 

"  The  governor  kept  warning  me.  I  don't 
believe  he'd  ever  have  kicked  me  out,  but  he 
died.  Then  they  cashiered  me  —  took  my  com 
mission  —  and  my  family  let  me  go,  too  .  .  . 
Well,  I  can't  blame  'em." 

"  Your  commission  —  in  the  army?  " 

"  Navy." 

"What  were  you?" 

"  Second  lieutenant." 

Madden  looked  at  his  friend  curiously.  Here 
was  a  queer  pass  for  an  English  naval  officer. 
This  revelation  explained  a  good  deal  about 
Smith,  his  autocratic  manner,  his  many-sided 
education,  his  emotion  at  leaving  England.  It 
even  explained  why  he  had  expected  Malone  to 
place  him  in  charge  of  the  dock. 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      219 

"Is  there  any  hope  of  getting  back  in?" 
asked  Leonard  sympathetically. 

"  Instauration !  Never  knew  of  such  a  thing 
in  our  navy.  If  I  ever  get  out  of  here  I'll  go 
in  trade  somewhere." 

"In  South  America?" 

"  I  had  British  Honduras  in  mind,  or  Canada. 
I'd  like  to  keep  in  the  Empire." 

A  noise  below  interrupted  the  conversation. 
The  two  youths  looked  down.  The  deck  plan 
of  the  tug  lay  flat  and  empty  save  for  the  inert 
form  of  Gaskin.  The  noise  came  from  inside 
the  cabin  and  arose  to  a  shouting.  It  was  a 
drunken  ribald  sound.  A  suspicion  flashed  on 
Leonard's  mind. 

"  Those  pigs  below  are  wasting  the  stores," 
he  declared. 

"  They  ought  to  be  stopped." 

"  I  couldn't  stop  them  without  a  fight.  They 
were  about  to  court  martial  me  when  they  hap 
pened  to  think  of  something  else." 

Caradoc  stared  down  in  the  direction  of  the 
noise,  "  I  might  talk  them  into  sense  if  Greer 
isn't  drunk  and  wanting  to  fight  again." 

"  He  said  he  never  drank  —  I  don't  know." 


220      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Caradoc  nodded,  "  I'll  go  down  and  send 
them  forward,"  he  asserted  with  conviction,  and 
started  to  climb  out  of  the  barrel. 

Madden  looked  at  the  Englishman  with  a 
certain  apprehension,  "  Caradoc,  if  you  go 
down  there  where  they  are  drinking,  won't 
you " 

"  No,  I'm  not  going  to  drink." 

"  It  will  be  a  temptation." 

"  I  have  myself  in  hand  now.  This  talk  has 
done  me  good.  No,  I'm  all  right."  He  swung 
out  of  the  barrel  and  started  down  the  ratlines. 

Leonard  watched  him  anxiously,  not  at  all 
sure  of  the  outcome  of  his  mission,  not  at  all 
sure  that  the  hot  smell  of  rum  in  the  galley 
would  not  again  overcome  his  resistance. 

The  sun  was  just  dipping  into  the  sea  and  its 
last  light  spread  out  of  the  west  to  the  zenith 
like  a  huge  red-gold  fan.  Purplish  shadows  had 
already  begun  to  dim  the  tug  and  dock  and 
ocean. 

Fifteen  or  twenty  degrees  above  the  sunset 
shone  a  pale  crescent  moon  in  the  burnished 
sky.  The  sight  of  the  moon  somehow  cheered 
Madden.  He  recalled  a  childish  superstition 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      221 

that  it  was  good  luck  to  see  the  new  moon  clear. 
At  any  rate,  as  the  sky  darkened,  the  clear  new 
moon  brought  Leonard  comfort  and  renewed 
hope. 

With  a  grateful  feeling  of  the  providence 
of  an  Almighty  that  hung  out  moon  and  stars, 
the  youth  glanced  around  the  darkening  horizon 
and  presently  observed  a  tiny  light  far  to  the 
south.  He  stared  at  it  quite  surprised,  and  then 
he  chanced  to  see  a  star  just  above  it.  It  was 
the  reflection  of  Sirius  in  Canis  Major. 

The  beam  of  a  star  must  lead  any  thoughtful 
soul  into  endless  reveries.  Beneath  its  calm  and 
infinite  light,  all  human  troubles  fade  to  the 
brief  complaining  of  a  child  in  the  night.  Death 
becomes  a  small,  unfeared  thing,  and  life  itself, 
the  trail  of  a  finger  writing  an  unknown  mes 
sage  upon  water. 

Filled  with  such  musings,  the  American  noted 
with  surprise  that  the  light  on  the  sea  which  he 
had  fancied  to  be  the  reflection  of  Sirius  was 
moving.  It  was  not  the  reflection  of  a  star. 

It  was  a  light  moving  in  the  gathering 
darkness. 

What  sort  of  light  could  it  be?    A  Will  o' 


222      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

the  Wisp?  A  Jack  o'  Lantern,  some  phosphoric 
phenomenon  rising  in  the  exhalations  of  rotting 
seaweed? 

Ten  minutes  before,  his  excited  imagination 
would  have  conjured  up  hydras  and  dragons; 
now  he  scrutinized  the  mysterious  illumination 
unexcitedly.  It  winked  out  occasionally,  then 
presently  reappeared.  But  it  did  not  move  in  an 
aimless  fashion,  after  the  manner  of  gaseous  or 
electrical  phenomena.  It  pursued  a  straight  line 
toward  the  Vulcan.  That  was  why  Madden  had 
not  observed  its  movement  sooner. 

Although  it  had  crept  only  a  little  way  down 
from  the  horizon,  the  wondering  boy  could  dis 
cern  its  progress  plainly  among  the  dark  masses 
of  seaweed  that  blotched  the  graying  water. 
The  light  was  moving  toward  the  Vulcan  and 
at  a  high  rate  of  speed. 

As  he  watched  it,  the  enigmatical  light  sud 
denly  disappeared.  The  youth  blinked  his  eyes, 
looked  again.  It  was  gone.  Then  he  became 
a  little  uncertain  whether  or  not  he  had  ever 
observed  any  such  phenomenon.  He  glanced 
down  on  the  dark  deck  and  could  faintly  discern 
the  form  of  the  cook. 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      223 

"Gaskin!"  he  called  sharply,  "Gaskin!" 

To  his  surprise  the  drunken  fellow  stirred 
and  made  some  mumbling  reply. 

"Get  up.  I  want  to  know  whether  or  not 
you  can  see  anything." 

Came  a  sluggish  stirring  from  below,  and 
then  Gaskin's  voice,  in  which  deference  strug 
gled  with  a  bad  headache,  "  Yes,  sor,  I  can  see 
hever'thing  as  usual,  sor." 

"  I  thought  I  saw  a  light  to  the  south.  Just 
take  a  look  in  that  quarter,  will  you?  " 

The  dopy  cook  scuffled  to  his  feet  and 
stumbled  over  to  the  rail,  hung  there,  peering 
intently  southward.  At  that  moment,  there 
burst  out  of  the  sea  a  brilliant  illumination  that 
fairly  blinded  Madden.  Shocked  into  spasmodic 
action,  the  American  jumped  from  barrel  to  rat 
lines. 

He  hardly  knew  how  he  got  down,  as 
much  of  a  fall  as  a  climb.  Strange  fearsome 
thoughts  chased  through  his  head.  The  men 
were  right  about  something  attacking  the  Minnie 
B.  Now  the  same  thing  had  attacked  the  Vul 
can.  The  Vulcan  would  be  sunk.  He  must 
rush  the  men  out  of  the  galley  into  the  small 


224      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

boat.  He  must  race  back  to  the  dock.  The  dock 
apparently  was  safe.  What  the  startling  appa 
rition  was,  he  had  no  time  to  speculate.  When 
he  touched  the  deck  he  sprinted  for  the  cabin. 

As  he  passed  Gaskin  the  light  vanished  as 
mysteriously  as  it  had  appeared,  and  left  the  tug 
in  inky  darkness. 

Madden  heard  the  cook  give  a  deferential 
cough  and  then  say,  "  Yes,  sor,  Hi  saw  it,  Mr. 
Madden,  saw  it  quite  plainly,  sor." 

A  moment  before  Leonard  reached  the  cabin 
door,  someone  flung  the  shutter  open  violently 
and  shouted  his  name  in  the  utmost  alarm. 

"  Mister  Madden !  Mister  Madden !  Come 
quick,  sir ! " 

The  American  lunged  through  the  dark  aper 
ture  straight  into  the  fellow's  arms.  In  the 
darkness  he  could  not  make  out  who  it  was. 

"Don't  be  afraid!  Did  you  see  it?  Where 
are  the  rest  of  the  men?" 

"  In  the  galley,  sir,  with  him ! "  stammered 
the  sailor. 

"  Are  they  in  a  funk?  "  gasped  Madden,  feel 
ing  that  he  himself  was  in  one. 

"  Oh,  they  are  that,  sir."      i 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      225 

"Why  don't  they  come  on  out?  We  must 
get  'em  out!" 

"  They're  with  him,  sir,  'fraid  to  touch  'im! " 

"With  who?" 

"  Mr.  Caradoc,  sir." 

"Afraid  to  touch  him  —  why,  what's  the 
matter?" 

"'E's  dead,  sir." 

A  feeling  as  if  ice  water  had  been  dashed 
over  his  body  shivered  through  Leonard.  The 
black  cabin  seemed  to  swing  under  his  feet. 
His  arms  dropped  down  and  he  stood  perfectly 
still  staring  into  the  blackness  from  whence 
came  the  sailor's  voice. 

"You  —  you  don't  mean  he's  dead?"  he 
asked  in  a  shocking  whisper. 

"  That  I  do,  sir,  dead  as  a  lump  o'  seaweed." 

Madden  turned  and  walked  with  a  queer  light 
feeling  toward  the  galley.  He  was  in  no  hurry 
now.  If  that  strange  light  sank  them,  drowned 
them,  it  made  little  difference.  An  idea  came 
into  his  mind. 

"  Did  —  did  you  fellows  kill  him  —  murder 
him  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  hard  undertone. 

The  tenseness  of  his  voice  seemed  to  scare 


226      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

the  sailor,  "  No,  sir,  no,  sir,  no,  sir ! "  repeated 
the  cockney  over  and  over. 

"  For  I'll  shoot  the  man  down  like  a  dog!  I'll 
hang  him!  I'll  — I'll " 

"  We  —  we  didn't  touch  Jim !  "  cried  the  sailor 
in  hoarse  alarm.  "  'E  done  it  'isself ,  sir.  Went 
clean  crazy,  kilt  hisself  —  'orrible !  "  As  the 
sailor  gasped  out  "  horrible  "  they  entered  the 
cook's  galley  where  a  dim  light  burned  and  a 
group  of  silent,  sobering  men  stood  in  a  knot 
over  some  object. 

Madden  shoved  through  to  where  two  men 
stooped  over  a  long  body,  dimly  seen  on  the 
decking.  The  two  men  were  Hogan  and 
Deschaillon. 

With  his  strange  feeling  still  strong  upon 
him,  Madden  knelt  between  the  two.  Caradoc 
lay  limp  and  motionless,  with  a  dark  stain 
slowly  spreading  on  the  boards  under  his  head. 

"Tell  me  about  this,"  commanded  Leonard, 
thrusting  a  hand  under  the  prostrate  man's  shirt 
and  feeling  for  his  heart.  The  request  set  loose 
a  babble. 

"  'E  did  it  'isself,  sor !  "  "  SplTt  hopen  'is  own 
'ead,  right  enough!"  "W'ack,  'e  took  'isself, 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      227 

w'ack!  "  "  Aye,  that  'e  did,  sor !  "  "  It  sounds 
queer,  an'  it  looked  queerer,  but  'e  did,  sor ! " 

Madden  made  a  sharp  angry  gesture  for 
silence,  "  One  at  a  time.  Mulcher,  what 
happened?" 

"  'E  comes  in,  Mr.  Madden,"  began  the  cock 
ney  more  composedly,  "  an'  says,  '  Forward, 
men,  lively  now,'  an'  Galton  'e  turns  an'  says, 
'  Ye  may  take  that,  ye '  " 

Again  came  the  irrepressible  chorus,  "  Aye, 
that  'e  did,  sor!" 

"  If  a  man  speaks  before  I  address  him,  I'll 
brain  him !  "  shouted  Madden.  "  Hogan,  what 
happened?  " 

"  If  you  plaze,  Misther  Madden,  Misther 
Smith  came  in  and  asked  iv'rybody  to  stip  for 
ward  and  quit  atin'  up  th'  grub.  Galton  was 
mad  innyway,  an'  had  a  glass  o'  whiskey  in  his 
hand.  'Quit  atin'!'  yills  Galton.  'A  officer 
niver  wants  nobody  to  ate  but  himself.'  Then, 
'  Take  thot ! '  he  yills,  and  flings  his  whiskey 
straight  into  Smith's  face. 

"  Av  cour-rse,  we  ixpected  to  see  him  smash 
Galton  to  smithereens,  him  being  dhrunk  —  Gal 
ton,  I  mane  —  but  he  stood  still  as  a  post,  sir, 


228     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

and  tur-rned  white  as  a  sheet.  I  filt  sorry  for 
th'  gintilmin  —  him  putting  up  sich  a  good 
f oight  this  avening  —  so  Oi  thought  if  he  didn't 
want  to  fight,  I'd  help  him  pass  it  off  aisy.  I 
had  a  glass  o'  liquor  in  me  own  hand.  I  offers 
it  to  him.  Says  I,  '  Pay  no  attention  to  th' 
spalpeen  at  all,  Misther  Smith,'  says  I;  'he's  a 
fool  to  be  throwin'  away  good  liquor  loike  that; 
and  have  this  dhrink  on  me,  and  if  he  does  it 
again  Oi'll  pitch  him  out  o'  the  port.'  With 
that  I  handed  him  me  glass. 

"  Well,  sir,  he  took  it,  an'  I  belave  there  was 
niver  another  face  on  earth  loike  his,  whin  he 
hild  up  that  glass  to  th'  lamp.  His  hand  shook 
so  some  of  the  sthuff  shpilled.  His  face  was 
loike  a  corpse.  He  shtarted  to  dhrink.  Put  it 
to  his  lips.  Thin  of  a  suddint,  loike  it  had 
shtung  him,  he  yills  out,  '  God  'a'  mercy ! '  flings 
down  th'  glass,  which  smashes  all  over  th'  floor, 
lowers  his  head  an'  plunges  loike  a  football 
tackle,  head  fir-rst,  roight  into  th'  sharp  edge 
o'  that  locker  there  where  ye  see  th'  blood  an' 
hairs  stickin'.  Down  he  wint,  loike  he's  hit  wid 
an  axe,  wid  his  skull  broke  in  siv'ral  pieces  no 
doubt.  Mad  as  a  hatter,  sir,  fr-rom  th'  hate, 


CARADOC  WINS  HIS  FIGHT      229 

Though  it's  sich  an  onrasonable  tale,  sir,  I  won't 
raysint  it  if  ye  call  me  a  liar  to  me  teeth." 

Madden  had  found  the  Englishman's  heart 
still  beating.  He  pressed  his  fingers  in  the  long 
bloody  wound  on  his  head  and  the  skull  appeared 
sound  enough  under  the  long  gash. 

"  Get  him  out  on  deck/'  he  ordered  sharply, 
in  an  effort  to  keep  his  voice  from  choking  in 
his  throat. 

"Out  on  deck!  He's  not  dead!  Get  him  in 
fresh  air ! " 

Hogan,  Deschaillon,  and  two  navvies  caught 
him  by  the  legs  and  arms.  Madden  lifted  the 
bleeding  head  from  which  the  blood  still  ran  in 
a  steady  trickle.  The  crowd  gave  back  and  the 
five  men  with  their  grewsome  burden  passed 
through  the  galley's  door  into  the  dark  passage. 

Just  then  a  sudden  vibration  went  through 
the  whole  ship,  as  if  the  Vulcan  had  been  struck 
by  some  enormous  force.  The  men  carrying 
Smith  staggered.  There  burst  out  a  blare  of 
confusion,  amazed  cries,  shouts  of  terror. 
There  was  a  stampede  in  the  narrow  passage. 
Flying  men  bumped  into  the  bearers  of  the  sick 
man.  They  were  shrieking,  "We're  struck! 


230      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

We're  foundering !    Th'  sea  sorpint's  got  us !  " 
"  Launch  the  small  boat  and  stand  by  till  we 
get  there !  "  bellowed  Madden. 

All  the  carriers  dropped  Smith's  body  and 
bolted  in  the  panic.  Madden  braced  himself 
against  the  rush  of  the  crew  and  held  up  the 
senseless  man  lest  he  be  trampled  on  in  the 
blackness.  The  uproar  in  the  passage  was  ter 
rific  as  the  men  tried  to  squeeze  through  all 
together.  Every  moment  Madden  expected  a 
rush  of  sea  water  down  the  passageway.  Just 
then,  he  felt  someone  else  lift  at  Caradoc. 

"  Go  on/'  said  Farnol  Greer's  voice.  "  Let's 
get  him  out,  sir." 


CHAPTER  XV 
TOWED! 

When  the  American  pushed  outside  with  his 
burden,  a  breeze  swept  the  deck  of  the  Vulcan 
with  an  unexpected  coolness.  The  vibrations 
had  almost  ceased,  but  there  was  a  slight  hissing 
of  water  from  somewhere,  and  a  feeling  of 
movement.  The  men  were  in  a  hubbub  on  the 
port  side  where  the  small  boat  lay  tied. 

Filled  with  the  idea  that  the  ship  was  about 
to  founder,  Madden  stared  about.  To  his  vast 
astonishment,  he  discovered  the  tug  was  not 
sinking,  but  moving.  The  Vulcan  was  under 
way.  The  noise  he  heard  was  the  swift  dis 
placement  of  water.  For  some  unaccountable 
reason,  the  vessel  glided  southward  at  a  speed 
of  eight  or  ten  knots. 

In  the  uproar  forward,  Madden  heard  the 
cries:  "Th*  dinghy's  swamped!"  "We  carn't 
reach  'er ! "  "  Cut  'er  loose  and  jump !  "  "  We 

231 


232      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

couldn't  right  'er  in  th'  water! "  " Cut  'er  and 
jump!  Quick!  'Eaven  knows  w'ot's  got  us!" 

"Steady!  Steady,  men!"  bawled  Madden, 
laying  Caradoc  down  on  the  deck  and  hurrying 
across  to  his  panicky  crew.  "What's  moving 
us?" 

"We  don't  know,  sir!  Th'  sea  sorpint! 
Grabbed  our  cable  and  made  off ! " 

"Can  you  see  it?" 

"  Just  make  it  out,  sir,  ahead !  " 

"  Cut  th'  cable!  "  cried  another  voice;  "  that'll 
get  us  loose!" 

"  Yes,  get  an  axe  —  Quick!  " 

A  dim  figure  came  running  aft  past  Madden 
for  the  axe.  The  American  shouted  at  him: 
"Come  back!  Don't  touch  that  towing  line! 
Let  things  alone !  " 

"Yes,  but  this'll  drag  us  to  the  bottom!" 
chattered  one  of  the  men  forward. 

"  We'll  get  in  the  dinghy  when  the  ship  goes 
down!" 

"  We  might  row  to  the  dock  from  here ! " 

The  men  stood  in  a  string  along  the  rail, 
below  them  in  the  hissing  water  the  dinghy 
tossing  topsy  turvy. 


TOWED!  233 

"What's  towing  us?  I  don't  see  it?"  cried 
Madden. 

Several  arms  pointed  forward.  Leonard 
peered  through  the  gloom.  The  crescent  moon 
and  the  stars  filtered  down  a  tinsel  light.  The 
faint  shine  merely  made  the  darkness  more  evi 
dent  Madden  seemed  to  catch  a  glimmer  of  a 
bulk  at  the  end  of  the  anchor  line  some  hundred 
yards  distant.  He  listened  but  heard  only  the 
gurgle  of  the  Vulcan's  wake  and  the  creak  of 
her  plates. 

When  the  sheer  panic  of  surprise  had  worn 
away  somewhat,  the  weirdness  of  the  uncanny 
voyage  came  upon  the  crew  with  tenfold  force. 
They  stood  gripping  the  rail,  staring  ahead  with 
the  feeling  of  condemned  prisoners  on  their  way 
to  the  gallows. 

" We're  'eaded  for  the  Jole  in  th'  sea!" 
muttered  Mulcher. 

"We'll  go  down  tug  an'  hall,"  mumbled 
Galton  unsteadily.  "  Fish  bait,  that's  w'ot  we 
are!" 

"  I've  heard  sea  serpents  can  sting  a  man  and 
numb  him  so  he  won't  live  or  die,"  shivered 
Hogan,  "  like  a  spider  stings  a  fly." 


234      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

They  spoke  in  half  whispers  under  the  influ 
ence  of  the  unknown  terror. 

"  If  anything  happens,  I  shall  keel  myself," 
declared  Deschaillon,  with  nervous  intensity, 
"  but  I  shall  see  it  first." 

"  That's  w'ot  went  with  the  other  two  crews 
—  killed  theirselves,"  chattered  Mulcher. 

Another  silence  fell.  The  cool  breeze  came 
as  a  sort  of  mockery  of  their  unknown  peril. 
For  the  first  time  since  the  storm  every  man 
was  thoroughly  comfortable  physically. 

"  Boys/'  planned  Hogan,  "  whin  th'  thing 
comes  aboard,  we'll  put  up  th'  best  foight  we 
can!" 

"  It  don't  come  aboard  —  it  bites  a  'ole  in  th' 
'ull." 

"  Aye,  like  th'  Minnie  B." 

Just  then  a  figure  approached  the  men 
unsteadily,  and  Madden  saw  that  Caradoc  had 
recovered  consciousness  and  was  able  to  walk. 
As  the  tall,  gaunt  figure  approached,  the  crew 
eyed  him  as  if  he  were  some  new  danger,  then 
he  asked. 

"What  is  this?    Are  we  moving?" 

"  Yes  we're  off,"  replied  Madden. 


TOWED!  235 

"Under  our  own  power?"  he  inquired,  turn 
ing  around  and  staring  at  the  smokeless  funnel. 

"  No,  we're  being  towed." 

"  Towed !  Towed !  "  exclaimed  Smith  in  a 
weak  voice.  "  What's  towing  us?  " 

"  We  don't  know,  sor,"  replied  a  cockney. 

There  was  a  silence  in  which  Caradoc  stood 
tall  and  cadaverous  as  a  ghost.  "  Am  I  dream 
ing  this,  Madden?"  he  muttered  finally.  "Did 
you  say  we  were  being  towed?  " 

"That's  right." 

"  What's  towing  us  —  not  —  not  the  dry  dock 
—  don't  say  the  dry  dock's  towing  us ! " 

"  We  don't  know,  sor,"  repeated  the  cockney. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  " 

"  To  be  killed,  sor." 

Caradoc  moved  slowly  over  to  the  rail  and  sat 
against  it  near  Madden. 

"  A  cool  breeze,"  he  murmured  gratefully. 

The  American  was  lost  amid  the  wildest 
speculations  as  to  the  mysterious  agent  that  had 
the  Vulcan  in  tow.  He  was  trying  to  think 
logically,  but  found  it  hard  in  that  atmosphere 
of  terror.  The  utter  wreirdness  of  the  whole 
affair  defied  analysis.  The  towing  of  the  Vul- 


236      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

can  by  an  unknown  power  was  the  very  climax 
of  the  fantastic.  No  hypothesis  he  could  form 
even  remotely  approached  an  explanation. 

It  could  not  be  some  sea  monster  surging 
steadily  at  the  tow  line  of  the  Vulcan.  That 
theory  was  untenable.  A  monster  might  attack ; 
it  would  never  tow. 

But  any  other  attempt  to  account  for  the 
strange  predicament  fell  equally  as  flat.  What 
human  agency  would  operate  so  mysteriously 
in  this  hot,  stagnant  sea?  Why  should  any 
group  of  men  entrap  the  helpless  crew  of  the 
Vulcan  with  such  a  display  of  mystery  and 
power?  It  was  useless.  It  was  ridiculous.  It 
was  shooting  a  mosquito  with  a  field  gun. 

All  his  thoughts  ended  in  utter  absurdity. 
He  felt  that  he  had  run  up  against  some  vast 
power.  The  schooner  Minnie  B,  the  tug  Vul 
can,  were  but  trifling  units  in  the  enigma  of 
this  deserted,  weed-clogged  sea.  It  must  be 
some  power  whose  operations  were  ocean-wide. 

Why  such  a  spot  should  be  chosen  ?  —  Why  a 
power  that  sank  one  ship  out  of  hand  and  towed 
another  mile  after  mile?  —  Why  it  operated 
only  at  night?  —  What  lay  at  the  heart  of  this 


TOWED!  237 

brooding  fabric  of  terror  —  he  could  not  form 
the  slightest  conception.  Outlawry,  piracy, 
smugglery,  were  all  goals  too  small  for  such 
operations. 

His  thoughts  seemed  to  be  physical  things 
trying  to  clamber  up  the  smooth  polished  side 
of  an  enormous  steel  plate.  They  made  not  the 
slightest  progress.  The  more  he  thought,  the 
more  unaccountable  all  phases  of  the  question 
became. 

In  absolute  perplexity,  he  turned  to  the  Eng 
lishman  at  his  side.  He  could  just  make  out  the 
blur  of  Caradoc's  face. 

"Have  you  a  theory  about  this,  Smith?"  he 
asked  in  a  low  voice. 

The  Englishman  nodded  in  silence. 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  —  I  got  my  head  hurt  awhile  ago.  I 
believe  I'm  delirious  —  dreaming." 

Leonard  thought  this  over  without  any  feel 
ing  of  amusement.  "  That  doesn't  explain  why 
I  see  it  too,"  he  objected  gravely.  "  Nothing 
wrong  with  my  head  —  that  I  know  of."  He 
tried  the  time  honored  experiment  of  pinching 
himself. 


238      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  I  shall  assume  that  I  am  awake,"  he  decided 
after  he  had  felt  his  pinch.  "  I  may  not  be,  but 
I'm  going  to  act  as  if  I  were/' 

Madden  had  an  impression  that  Caradoc  was 
smiling  in  the  darkness.  Just  then  Gaskin  began 
laughing  shrilly  in  a  queer  metallic  voice. 

"  Quit  that ! "  snapped  half  a  dozen  thick 
voices  at  once,  as  if  his  laughter  had  violently 
shocked  their  tense  nerves. 

Gaskin  pointed  a  stumpy  arm  off  the  star 
board  bow,  "Look!  Look!"  he  gasped.  "It's 
that  rotten  whiskey !  Whiskey  done  it !  Whiskey 
made  me  see  that!  Look  w'ot  whiskey  done!" 

Leonard  had  no  idea  that  anything  could  be 
added  to  the  nightmarish  quality  of  the  adven 
ture,  but  there  off  the  starboard  arose  a  great 
bulk,  blotting  out  the  stars.  It  was  not  a  ship; 
it  was  not  a  barge;  there  was  not  a  light  on  it, 
but  it  seemed  somehow  dimly  illuminated.  It 
was  as  shapeless  as  death. 

"The  Flyin'  Dutchman!"  shuddered  Galton. 

"  It  burns  a  blue  light ! "  corrected  Hogan 
with  chattering  teeth. 

"Th'  ship  o'  the  dead!"  shivered  Mulcher. 

A  sudden  explanation  flashed  into  Madden's 


TOWED!  239 

head.  "  You  fools  are  afraid  of  our  own  dry 
dock,"  he  whispered  briefly.  "We've  traveled 
in  a  circle  and  reached  the  dock  again." 

"Oh,  no,  sor,  it  ain't  that!  Tain't  th'  dry- 
dock,  sor !  "  aspirated  several  fear-struck  voices. 

The  crew  held  their  breaths  as  if  the  appari 
tion  might  vanish  as  suddenly  as  it  appeared. 

By  this  time  the  moon  lay  flat  on  the  sea, 
throwing  a  faint  shining  streak  across  the  dark 
Sargasso.  This  vague  light  was  enough  to 
show  Madden,  when  he  took  a  close  look,  that 
it  was  not  the  dock. 

The  thing  he  saw  was  an  enormous  mass 
without  the  severe  angular  shape  of  the  great 
dock.  Its  outline  rose  crude  and  shapeless,  as 
well  as  he  could  trace  it  among  the  canopy  of 
stars,  and  gave  not  the  slightest  intimation  as 
to  what  use  it  could  be. 

As  they  stared,  the  speed  of  the  Vulcan 
slackened  sensibly.  The  faint  rippling  of  water 
under  the  prow  ceased.  The  breeze  fell  away 
into  a  dead  blanket  of  heat.  It  was  as  if  a 
sweatbox  had  been  cooped  over  the  crew. 

"  The  thing's  cut  loose  from  us,"  said  a  weary 
voice. 


240      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Hogan  laughed  shortly:  "Everybody  out  — 
fifteen  minutes  for  refrishmints." 

"Yonder  goes  that  thing!"  cried  Galton. 
"Hi  can  see  it!" 

Indeed,  by  peering  carefully,  Madden  could 
follow  the  slender  outline  of  the  mysterious 
craft  that  had  towed  the  Vulcan  to  this  uncanny 
spot.  It  had  now  left  the  tug  and  was  gliding 
away  to  the  great  misshapen  fabric  that 
sprawled  on  the  sea. 

Every  eye  strained  to  see  the  outcome  of  this 
strange  maneuver,  when  suddenly  from  the 
gliding  vessel  there  shot  a  dazzling  light  that 
spread  over  the  bulky  mass.  Under  the  beating 
illumination  every  detail  of  the  huge  vessel 
stood  out  garishly.  She  was  immense,  with  a 
broad  flat  prow  like  a  railway  ferryboat.  She 
stood  high  in  the  water  and  seemed  to  have 
three  promenade  decks  around  her. 

There  was  no  mast,  no  rigging,  no  outside 
gearing.  One  squat  funnel  amidship  told  that 
she  used  steam  for  some  purpose,  and  out  of 
this  funnel  black  masses  of  smoke  rose  slowly 
in  the  motionless  air.  She  resembled  no  craft 
Madden  had  ever  seen. 


TOWED!  241 

Notwithstanding  her  enormous  size,  every 
thing  about  the  vessel  impressed  Madden  that 
she  was  built  for  secrecy.  She  was  squat,  con 
sidering  her  length  and  breadth.  It  was  as  if 
her  designer  were  trying  to  make  a  craft  invisi 
ble  at  sea.  As  near  as  Madden  could  determine 
in  the  strange  light,  she  was  painted  a  pale  sky- 
blue.  During  the  day,  no  doubt,  she  melted 
into  the  sky  like  a  chameleon. 

As  the  smaller  craft  approached  its  huge 
mate,  its  circle  of  light  contracted  until  it  finally 
concentrated  into  a  dazzling  white  spot  centered 
on  the  prow  of  the  monster.  This  spot  dimin 
ished  to  an  intense  point,  like  an  electric  arc 
between  carbons.  A  sharp  reflection  of  this 
point  streaked  the  water  between  the  tug  and 
the  mysterious  vessels. 

Then,  under  the  unbelieving  eyes  of  the  crew, 
the  little  vessel  ran  completely  into  the  larger 
one  and  was  gone.  The  light  vanished  instantly. 
Utter  blackness  fell  over  the  dazzled  eyes  of  the 
[watchers. 

There  were  gasps,  explosive  curses  of  bewil 
derment,  amazement.  The  little  boat  had  dis 
appeared  into  the  larger.  Impossible!  Gaskin 


242      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

began  his  shrill  laughter  again.  Then  he  gur 
gled  in  the  darkness  as  if  somebody's  fingers 
had  clamped  his  windpipe. 

Madden's  mind  attacked  more  violently  than 
ever  the  incomprehensible  motives  behind  this 
inscrutable  mystery.  What  was  the  key  to  this 
incredible  affair?  In  the  midst  of  his  mental 
struggle,  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  arm.  Caradoc 
said  in  his  ear. 

"  What  do  you  say  we  get  in  the  small  boat 
and  pay  them  a  visit?" 

"  It's  a  big  risk.  I  daresay  we'll  get  our  heads 
blown  off." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,"  agreed  Caradoc. 

"  Come  on,"  said  the  American,  and  the  two 
moved  across  the  deck  to  see  if  they  could  still 
use  the  dinghy,  which  had  been  trailing  along 
all  this  time. 

Nearly  an  hour  later,  the  two  boys  in  the 
dinghy  approached  the  puzzling  craft  with 
muffled  oars.  As  Madden  and  Caradoc  drew 
near,  the  vast  size  of  the  strange  ship  grew 
more  striking.  The  faint  impression  of  light 
which  they  had  first  received  grew  stronger  and 
Madden  saw  that  the  decks  were  illuminated  by 


TOWED!  243 

long  bands  of  diffused  light,  although  he  could 
not  guess  its  origin. 

On  the  lowest  deck,  the  American  made  out 
the  small  figure  of  a  man  marching  back  and 
forth  with  a  gun. 

At  this  sight,  both  boys  stopped  rowing,  lifted 
the  oars  from  tholes  and  began  paddling  noise 
lessly,  canoe-fashion. 

"That  must  be  the  accommodation  ladder/' 
whispered  Madden,  "  where  the  guard  is." 

"Who  are  they  afraid  will  board  them?" 
queried  Caradoc.  "Mermaids?" 

"It  is  a  strange  precaution  to  take  in  the 
Sargasso,"  agreed  the  American.  "  It  is  going 
to  make  our  entrance  difficult." 

They  ceased  paddling  now  and  drifted  silently 
toward  the  monster. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  aren't  smugglers,"  haz 
arded  Caradoc. 

"  Must  be  up-to-date,  to  use  submarines  —  a 
submarine  would  defy  detection,  wouldn't  it?" 

"And  rich  —  nobody  but  millionaire  smug 
glers  could  get  together  all  this  paraphernalia." 

"  I'll  venture  insurance  is  at  the  bottom 
of  this  fraud,  Caradoc,"  hazarded  Madden. 


244      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"These  swindlers  insure  a  cargo,  bring  it  to 
this  place,  reship  it,  sink  the  vessel,  or  repaint 
and  rebuild  it,  then  collect  the  insurance  money 
—  do  you  remember  the  log  of  the  Minnie  B?  " 

•"  No,  I  didn't  read  it." 

"  It  stated  her  cargo  had  been  reshipped  — 
reshipped  from  the  Sargasso.  The  entry  may 
have  been  for  the  benefit  of  Davy  Jones.  Any 
way,  they  are  methodical  scoundrels." 

The  lads  fell  silent  as  the  hugeness  of  this 
nefarious  business  gradually  dawned  on  them. 
For  insurance  swindlers  and  smugglers  to  work 
on  such  a  large  scale,  very  probably  the  organi 
zation  branched  over  the  whole  civilized  world. 
This  vast  shapeless  vessel  was  a  spider  at  the 
center  of  a  great  network  of  criminality. 

"Say,  the  Camorras  are  mere  infants  in 
crime  compared  to  these  men,"  shuddered  Leon 
ard.  "I  suppose  they  murder  the  crews  — 
drown  'em." 

"  They  would  have  to  get  'em  out  of  the  way 
somehow." 

"  Then  Malone  and  all  the  tug's  crew 
are  .  .  ." 

There  was  an  expressive  silence. 


TOWED!  245 

After  a  while  Caradoc  whispered,  "Well, 
shall  we  try  to  get  aboard?" 

"  Wouldn't  do  any  good." 

"  It  won't  do  any  good  to  stay  here." 

"  No,  we  can't  hide  on  the  tug  always,  and 
we  can't  run  her  engines.  You  don't  know  any 
thing  about  marine  engines,  do  you,  Caradoc?" 

"  Very  little.     I  couldn't  run  one." 

For  several  minutes,  the  two  adventurers  sat 
in  silence,  watching  the  small  erect  figure  of  the 
guard  pace  and  repace  his  short  path.  Presently 
Madden  said: 

"I've  thought  of  one  chance,  Caradoc,  to 
escape  being  starved  or  murdered." 

"Yes,  what's  that?" 

"  It  —  it's  almost  too  wild  to  propose,  but  it's 
all  I  can  think  of.  As  far  as  I  know  it's  abso 
lutely  our  last  chance." 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  urged  the  Englishman 
impatiently.  "  I  don't  know  of  any  way  out 
whatever." 

"  If  we  could  slip  aboard  there  and  —  and  — 
well,  kidnap  somebody  who  knows  how  to  run 
our  engines,  bring  him  back  to  the  tug,  fire  up 
and  make  a  race  to  South  America  —  but  there's 


246      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

no  sense  to  a  scheme  like  that.  Captain  Kidd 
himself  wouldn't  be  up  to  it." 

A  long  silence  followed  this  ultimatum,  then 
Caradoc  said,  "Oh,  it's  possible,  I  suppose. 
The  mathematical  formula  of  possibility  would 
work  out  about  ten  million  chances  to  one  that 
we  lose." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it's  risky." 

"And  how  do  you  hope  to  get  in  past  that 
guard?" 

"We'll  have  to  climb  up  the  ladder  right 
under  him,  hang  there  until  he  is  on  his  up-deck 
walk,  then  swing  inside  and  when  he  turns 
around  we  could  be  simply  strolling  up  the  deck 
toward  him.  There  must  be  a  lot  of  fellows  on 
such  a  big  ship.  Maybe  he  doesn't  know  them 
all." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  stroll  toward  him?  " 

"  Because  if  he  saw  us  walking  off  in  the 
other  direction,  he  would  know  we  had  not 
passed  him,  and  so  we  must  have  come  up  the 
ladder." 

Caradoc  shook  his  head  in  the  darkness. 
"  I'm  going  to  try  to  jump  on  that  guard  when 
he  turns  his  back,  and  down  him." 


TOWED!  247 

"  He'd  give  an  alarm  sure.  We  mustn't  dis 
turb  him  till  we  get  ready  to  leave,  then  let  him 
yell." 

"What  you  are  planning,  Madden,  is  simply 
impossible.  I  like  to  be  as  conservative  as 
possible." 

"We  can  turn  around  and  row  back  to  the 
Vulcan  —  and  starve." 

"Go  ahead  to  the  accommodation  ladder. 
However,  it's  impossible." 

As  the  two  moved  silently  nearer  a  murmur 
of  machinery  in  the  vast  fabric  came  to  them. 
As  their  tiny  boat  swung  in  beside  the  high 
hull,  they  could  hear  this  noise  quite  plainly, 
and  they  trusted  to  this  rumble  to  screen  their 
operations  somewhat.  They  ceased  paddling 
and  allowed  the  dinghy  to  drift  against  the 
iron  side  of  the  vessel.  They  could  no  longer 
see  the  deck  and  the  guard,  owing  to  the  swell 
in  the  high  metal  wall.  But  presently  they 
came  to  the  rope  ladder  which  they  anticipated 
hung  below  the  guard's  station. 

Madden  caught  this  and  tied  the  dinghy  to 
it  with  the  crawly  feeling  of  a  man  who  expects 
to  have  a  gun  fired  at  him  the  next  moment. 


248      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Caradoc  came  up  and  the  two  adventurers  stood 
in  the  boat's  prow,  both  holding  to  the  ladder. 

"I'll  bet  that  scoundrel  shoots  down,"  whis 
pered  Leonard,  "  before  we  get  halfway  up." 

"  Don't  talk  so  loud  —  are  you  ready  to  try 
it?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  —  jump  on 
him?"  breathed  Leonard. 

"No,  your  plan.  If  you  see  he  is  going  to 
shoot  you  before  you  get  inside,  jump  back 
wards  and  dive." 

"  And  remember  to  go  far  enough  out  not  to 
hit  the  dinghy." 

"  Good." 

Madden  stared  up  into  the  mysterious  vessel, 
caught  the  ladder  and  swung  himself  silently 
onto  the  rungs.  Caradoc  mounted  close  behind 
him.  They  had  mounted  only  two  or  three 
steps,  when  a  sudden  terrific  report  thundered 
above  their  heads. 

It  was  so  unexpected,  so  violent,  that  the  two 
boys  almost  tumbled  into  the  sea.  The  next 
instant  they  found  themselves  wrapped  in  an 
atmosphere  of  hot,  stifling  steam.  They  clung 
to  the  rungs  in  a  veritable  steam-bath"  that 


TOWED!  249 

roared  and  plunged  around  them.  When  Mad 
den  collected  his  senses,  he  realized  that  it  was 
merely  a  safety  discharge  from  the  boilers.  The 
main  steam  pressure  did  not  strike  them,  but 
they  swung  in  the  hot  wet  fringe  of  the  exhaust. 
Had  they  been  ten  feet  farther  aft,  they  would 
surely  have  been  boiled  to  death.  As  it  was 
they  were  immersed  in  uncomfortably  hot  vapor. 

They  clung,  rather  unnerved  by  the  uproar, 
enduring  the  heat  for  four  or  five  minutes, 
when  suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  Madden. 
He  leaned  down  to  Caradoc  and  shouted  in  his 
ear. 

"  How  about  going  up  now?  Couldn't  see  us 
in  this  steam." 

For  reply,  Caradoc  shoved  his  friend  upward, 
and  so  they  scrambled  aloft  like  two  monkeys. 

Fortunately  for  them,  the  night  was  windless 
and  the  white  steam  drifted  straight  up  and  as 
it  rose,  it  spread  out  in  an  impenetrable  fog. 
Cloaked  in  this  vapor,  the  two  adventurers 
scrambled  up  some  thirty-five  feet  to  the  first 
deck.  The  steam  was  thick  inside  the  rail. 
Covered  by  the  noisy  shriek  of  the  exhaust, 
they  jumped  inside  the  promenade  without  being 


250      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

heard  or  seen,  and  a  moment  later,  they  dropped 
arm  in  arm,  like  two  casual  strollers,  and  moved 
up  deck. 

Two  minutes  later,  when  the  roaring  exhaust 
had  ceased  and  the  vapor  had  cleared  away,  the 
guard  with  the  gun  could  never  have  guessed 
that  the  two  men  he  saw  slowly  promenading 
the  deck  had  drifted  over  the  rail,  out  of  the 
night,  with  the  clouds  of  the  noisy  exhaust. 

Neither  of  the  lads  so  much  as  glanced  at 
the  sentinel  as  they  strolled  past  him.  Caradoc 
was  saying  in  the  low  tones  men  use  when  con 
versing  in  the  darkness: 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  fellow  knows  anything 
about  engines?" 

And  Madden  replied  just  as  confidentially,  as 
he  sized  the  gun  man  up  out  of  the  tail  of  his 
eye,  "  No,  I'm  sure  he  doesn't.  An  engineer 
never  has  to  stand  guard." 

"  How  are  we  ever  going  to  spot  an 
engineer?" 

For  the  first  time  since  starting,  a  little  thrill 
of  the  joy  of  adventure  crept  into  Madden's 
heart.  He  felt  like  a  ferret  venturing  into  a 
rat's  den. 


TOWED!  251 

"Why  you  can  tell  an  engineer  easily,"  he 
murmured.  "You've  seen  'em,  oily  fellows, 
with  black  smudges." 

"  That  describes  a  fireman,  too." 

"No,  a  fireman's  not  so  oily  and  is  more 
cindery  —  then  we'll  know  one  by  his  cap." 

"Certainly,"  breathed  Smith.  "I  hadn't 
thought  of  that." 

Notwithstanding  his  danger,  Madden  could 
not  help  smiling  as  he  moved  along  after  the 
fashion  of  a  careless  stroller,  when  he  was 
really  keenly  alert  for  a  man  with  an  engineer's 
cap. 

The  two  youths  were  walking  up  a  long  deck, 
dimly  lighted  by  small  incandescent  bulbs  placed 
on  the  inner  surface  of  the  outside  stanchions 
about  thirty  feet  apart.  Each  bulb  was  care 
fully  blinded  from  the  ocean  by  a  sheath,  which 
confined  its  glowworm  radiance  exclusively  to 
the  promenade.  On  the  inboard  side  were  a 
long  series  of  port  holes,  likewise  hooded  from 
observation.  Some  were  aglow,  others  dark. 

The  deck,  rails,  cabin  walls,  ports,  hoods, 
joists  of  the  top-deck  were  newly  washed  and 
scrupulously  clean.  Fifty  yards  up-deck,  where 


252      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

perspective  and  the  sheer  of  the  ship  gave  the 
promenade  the  appearance  of  a  long,  up-curved 
tunnel,  the  boys  caught  sight  of  a  gang  of  men 
scrubbing  down  deck.  A  little  beyond  the  scrub 
bing  gang,  some  garments  fluttered  on  a  line 
drying  in  the  night  air. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  Madden  perceived  they 
were  muscular  men,  with  faces  bronzed  by 
tropic  sunshine.  Some  of  their  necks  and 
cheeks  were  peeling,  as  if  from  sunburn.  On 
the  whole  they  had  a  healthy,  hearty  appearance 
that  fitted  in  badly  with  Madden' s  theory  of 
murderers  and  thieves.  Instead  of  a  piratical 
aspect,  th£  promenade  bore  a  strong  resemblance 
to  a  deck  scene  on  some  crack  transatlantic  liner, 
except  for  the  blinded  lights  and  ports  and  the 
armed  guard. 

The  wanderers  passed  the  scrub  gang  with 
out  trouble  and  came  to  the  drying  laundry. 
The  number  of  these  shirts  and  trousers  and 
under  clothing  suggested  the  hulk  must  contain 
a  large  number  of  men.  If  these  men  were 
smugglers  and  insurance  swindlers,  they  had 
systematized  their  life  after  rigid  military 
discipline. 


TOWED!  253 

They  moved  through  the  laundry  with  fading 
hopes  of  kidnapping  an  engineer  from  such  a 
formidable  institution,  when  they  were  startled 
by  a  human  laugh.  It  sounded  in  their  ears 
and  was  as  unexpected  as  a  shriek  in  church. 
For  an  instant  they  thought  they  were  appre 
hended.  Then  they  understood  the  sound  came 
from  one  of  the  lighted  ports. 

They  moved  softly  among  the  shirts  and 
trousers  until  they  reached  the  suspected  port. 
Inside  they  heard  a  very  trivial  conversation  in 
English. 

"  I'm  after  that  jack  of  yours,  Captain  Cleg- 
horne,"  declared  a  thick  voice  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  played  low,  remember  that," 

A  silence,  then  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"  He  ran  that  jick  over  your  king! " 

Leonard  stood  beside  the  port  blind  making  a 
tantalizing  effort  to  recall  something.  Where 
had  he  heard  the  name  "Cleghorne?"  He 
repeated  it  mentally  several  times. 

"  Cleghorne,  Cleghorne "  of  a  sudden  it 

came  to  him.  He  had  never  heard  it,  but  had 
seen  it  framed  in  the  license  that  hung  in  the 
chart  room  of  the  schooner,  Minnie  B. 


254      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

With  a  heart  thumping  against  his  ribs  at 
this  strange  and  amazing  coincidence,  the  Amer 
ican  ducked  his  head  carefully  under  the  port 
hood  and  looked  in. 

For  a  moment  his  eyes  were  blinded  by  elec 
tric  lights.  Then  he  observed  a  group  of  men 
sitting  around  a  table  playing  cards.  They  were 
in  obviously  comfortable  spirits,  nothing  crimi 
nal  or  warlike.  One  was  a  long  cadaverous 
figure  that  suggested  to  Madden,  Cleghorne,  the 
Yankee  commander  of  the  Minnie  B. 

When  his  eyes  strayed  across  the  table  to 
Cleghorne's  partner,  Leonard's  knees  almost 
crumpled  in  surprise.  He  was  looking  at  the 
old  commander  of  the  floating  dock,  Mate 
Malone. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND 

Notwithstanding  that  Madden's  head  was  un 
der  the  hood,  Caradoc  sensed  the  fact  that  his 
friend  had  experienced  some  profound  shock. 

"What's  the  matter?  What's  wrong?"  he 
whispered  from  the  outside. 

"The  mate  —  the  mate  of  the  Vulcan  is  in 
there !  "  gasped  the  American. 

"Impossible!"  Smith  dived  under  the  hood 
for  himself. 

Both  heads  just  managed  to  squeeze  in  and 
the  two  men  stared  at  Malone  as  if  he  were 
raised  from  the  grave.  The  mate,  however, 
was  not  funereal.  He  seemed  in  the  pink  of 
condition,  rather  fatter  than  he  had  been  on 
the  dock,  and  he  wore  the  pleased  expression  of 
a  man  well  content  with  life. 

As  men  will  do  when  under  a  fixed  stare,  he 
presently  glanced  about  and  his  eyes  fell  on 

255 


256      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

the  porthole.  He  looked  at  the  dim  port  for 
several  seconds  intently,  as  if  he  could  not  quite 
make  out  their  faces.  Madden  frowned,  jerked 
his  head  up  and  down  in  a  signal  for  Malone 
to  approach. 

The  mate's  little  eyes  went  round  at  the 
request.  He  made  a  surprised  gesture  to  his 
partner,  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  drew  near. 
The  whole  cabin  followed  his  motions. 

"Wot  is  it?  "  he  whispered,  still  peering  into 
the  half-faces  seen  in  the  round  hole. 

"Madden  and  Smith." 

"  Wot! " 

"Yes." 

"Great  sharks!    Wot  you  lads  doin'  5ere?" 

"  Came  off  the  tug  —  what  is  this?  " 

"Wot  is  w'ot?" 

"This  ship  we're  on?" 

It  seemed  as  if  Malone's  little  eyes  would  pop 
out  of  his  head. 

"Wot  —  didn't  they  ketch  you?  You  don't 
mean  to  say  you  —  you  jest  straggled  aboard?  " 

"Sure  we  did.  Catch  us?  Who  is  there  to 
catch  us?" 

Malone  stared  as  if  at  two  gKosts.     "Say! 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     257 

Say!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "You  don't  mean  to 
say  you  ain't  caught?  You  don't  mean  you 
run  th'  tug  up  'ere  an'  boarded  us!  You  don't 

mean "  He  turned  and  whispered  hoarsely 

inside:  "It's  th'  lads  off  th'  dock,  though  'ow 
they  got  'ere,  an'  w'ot  they're  —  douse  th'  light, 
some  o'  you  fellows." 

A  stifled  consternation  seized  the  card  play 
ers,  who  crowded  up  to  the  port.  A  moment 
later  all  the  lights  were  snapped  out  one  after 
another, 

f<  Tell  us  who  there  was  to  catch  us,"  begged 
Leonard  in  a  whisper. 

"Who?  W'y  a  German  warship,  that's  who! 
One  caught  us  —  an'  Cap  Cleghorne.  Caught 
th'  Cap  away  hup  on  th'  Newfoundland  Banks. 
Caught  us  first  day " 

"Why  should  a  German  warship  capture 
ust "  demanded  Leonard  in  a  voice  that  threat 
ened  to  rise  in  excitement. 

"Quiet!  Quiet!  'Eavens,  lad!  Don't  you 
know?  Ain't  you 'ear d?  W'y  it's  war!  War! 
War's  broke  out  all  over  th'  world!  Every- 
w'ere!  Ever'body!" 

"War!"  gasped  Madden. 


258      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"War!  What  countries?"  demanded  Smith 
in  an  excited  whisper. 

"  Hall  countries !  Hingland,  France,  Rooshia, 
Japan,  that's  one  side,  an'  Germany  and  Austria 
on  th'  other/' 

"America  in  it?"  demanded  Madden. 

"  Right  enough.  Canada  is  sendin'  troops 
and " 

"  America !  America !  The  United  States  of 
America! " 

"  Oh,  no,  she's  the  only  nootral  in  th'  whole 
world  among  th'  big  powers!  But  she'll  be  in 
soon  enough ! " 

"What's  this  we're  on?"  inquired  Caradoc. 
"It  isn't  a  warship?" 

"Kind  o'  warship.  It's  a  mother  ship  for 
submarines  —  sort  of  floatin'  dry  dock  for  the 
little  sneakers.  She  takes  Jem  aboard,  over'auls 
'em,  gives  'em  new  stores  and  torpedoes." 

"  England  at  war ! "  repeated  Caradoc  in  a 
maze.  "  I  must  get  out  of  here ! " 

"  That's  th'  word,  war !  "  whispered  Malone 
thickly.  "They  say  Hingland's  got  a  tight 
blockade  aroun'  th'  German  ports,  so  th'  German 
cruisers  bring  their  prizes  here  in  th'  Sargasso, 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     259 

load  all  the  prize  stores  they  capture  out  o' 
Hinglish  bottoms  into  submarines  an'  run  it 
into  Germany  under  th'  blockade.  See?  That's 
w'y  this  mother  ship  is  'ere.  She  fixes  'em  up 
at  this  end  for  their  run  back." 

Malone  told  all  this  in  a  hoarse  breath. 

"  What  do  they  do  with  their  prisoners  — 
keep  them  here  ?  " 

"  No,  ship  'em  to  German  East  Africa  an' 
intern  'em.  The  Prince  Eitel  is  due  'ere 
to-morrow  to  ship  us." 

So  that  was  the  explanation  of  all  this  mys 
tery  —  War ! 

Madden  fell  silent  with  the  sensation  of  a 
man  who  had  lost  his  footing  on  earth.  All 
his  life  he  had  been  accustomed  to  peace.  He 
thought  of  wars  as  small  affairs  that  broke  out 
now  and  then  in  South  America  or  when  the 
American  Indians  got  hold  of  whiskey.  But 
for  Germany,  France,  England  to  fight,  to  hurl 
millions  of  men  at  each  other!  It  was  incon 
ceivable  ! 

The  boy's  brain  felt  numb  as  if  crushed 
beneath  an  enormous  horror.  The  world  was 
at  warl 


260      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Unless  a  person  actually  witness  a  murder, 
he  cannot  imagine  the  shock  and  dreadfulness 
of  seeing  one  man  shot  down,  writhe,  gasp, 
grow  pale  and  cease  struggling.  To  picture 
ten  men  murdered  simply  stuns  the  mind.  An 
effort  to  realize  hundreds,  thousands,  millions 
of  men  mangled,  wounded,  bayoneted,  crushed, 
blown  to  atoms  by  shells  and  mine  — all  this 
becomes  vague,  formless,  a  dim,  dreadful  pic 
ture  that  is  as  unreal  as  a  dream,  or  history. 

"What  caused  it?"  asked  Madden  in  a 
strained  tone. 

"  I  don't  know,"  whispered  the  mate  huskily. 
"They  say  it  all  started  because  an  anarchist 
killed  an  Austrian  prince,  but  I  don't  believe 
it  —  that  sounds  too  onreasonable  for  me." 

"What  has  an  Austrian  prince  to  do  with 
the  rest  of  the  nations?  " 

"I  told  you  I  don't  believe  it!"  repeated  the 
mate. 

Madden  felt  impotent  at  tKe  conclusion  of 
the  narrative.  As  long  as  he  had  conceived 
himself  to  be  attacking  a  force  of  pirates  and 
thieves,  he  was  ready  to  board  this  great  vessel, 
hunt  for  an  engineer,  or  attempt  any  desperate 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     261 

scheme.  But  now  when  he  learned  that  men 
were  being  murdered,  goods  stolen,  ships  scut 
tled,  in  accordance  with  a  kind  of  wild  law, 
called  rules  of  war,  he  no  longer  knew  what 
to  do.  The  world  was  mad.  Its  people  were 
murdering  each  other. 

He  finally  said  aloud  to  Caradoc:  "  I  suppose 
we  may  as  well  hunt  up  the  commanding  officer, 
surrender  ourselves  and  sail  for  Africa  with 
the  others." 

"No,"  interrupted  Smith,  "don't  do  that." 
Then  he  called  softly  inside,  "Malone!" 

"  Well,  w'ot  is  it?  "  inquired  the  mate  gruffly, 
for  he  persevered  in  his  dislike  of  Smith. 

"  Look  sharp,  Malone !  I  am  an  officer  in 
the  English  navy  —  it  is  my  right  and  duty 
to  assume  command  of  all  English  seamen  in 
case  of  ;war!" 

A  blank  silence  followed  this  remarkable 
assumption  of  authority.  The  tone  in  which 
it  was  whispered  prevented  any  doubts  in  the 
minds  of  his  hearers. 

"Do  you  understand?"  inquired  Caradoc  in 
a  sharp  undertone. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  mate  doggedly. 


262      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"How  many  men  have  you  in  there ?" 

"  Eleven  Hinglishmen,  sir." 

"I  assume  responsibility  for  those  men. 
From  now  on  accept  orders  from  me  1 " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Pass  the  word  around.  I  am  going  to  hand 
in  some  German  uniforms  through  this  port. 
Let  every  man  put  on  a  uniform !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir ! "  came  the  dismayed  reply. 

Caradoc  withdrew  his  head  from  the  hood. 
In  the  faint  gleam  from  the  outside  incandes- 
cents,  he  fell  to  untying  the  strings  by  which 
the  suits  were  leashed  to  the  lines.  He  handed 
eleven  suits  to  Madden,  who  passed  them  under 
the  hood  and  Malone  received  them  inside. 
Then  Smith  deliberately  stripped  off  his  own 
clothes  and  drew  on  a  pair  of  German  trousers. 

"  Get  on  a  pair,  Madden,"  he  advised.  "Civil 
ian  trousers  will  be  conspicuous  in  a  bright  light. 
You  are  going  to  see  this  thing  through,  aren't 
you?" 

Madden  nodded  and  followed  his  companion's 
example.  Five  minutes  later  the  two,  trans 
formed  into  German  sailors,  walked  out  of  the 
hanging  laundry. 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     263 

"  Don't  seem  to  observe  anything,"  whispered 
Caradoc.  "  Appear  to  be  going  somewhere,  on 
an  errand.  Walk  just  as  if  you  belonged 
aboard." 

A  moment  later  the  Briton  turned  down  a 
stairway  that  led  to  a  shadowy  deck,  which 
was  hung  with  long  rows  of  hammocks  with 
men  sleeping  in  them.  The  air  down  here 
was  remarkably  cool,  although  Madden  did  not 
have  time  to  give  much  thought  to  this.  Car 
adoc  pursued  his  way  unhesitatingly  among  the 
sleeping  sailors,  and  presently  came  to  another 
hatchway,  out  of  which  poured  the  rumble  of 
machinery  and  a  stream  of  light. 

Down  this  flight  of  steps,  Smith  moved 
with  certainty,  and  a  moment  later  Madden  saw 
they  were  entering  a  great  machine  shop.  A 
full  complement  of  men  worked  at  every  lathe, 
table,  drill  or  saw.  The  clang  of  hammers,  the 
guttering  of  drills,  the  whine  of  steel  planes 
smote  his  ears  in  a  cheerful  din  of  labor.  The 
laborers  worked  at  their  tasks  with  that  peculiar 
flexibility  of  forearms,  wrists,  fingers  that  mark 
skilled  machinists.  The  scent  of  lubricating  oil 
and  the  faint  tang  of  metal  dust  filled  the  air. 


264      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Strange  to  say,  the  air  down  here  was  even 
cooler  than  that  in  the  sleeping  deck  above. 

All  sorts  of  queer  tasks  were  progressing. 
Here,  men  were  working  on  gyroscopes  that 
fitted  into  the  shells  of  torpedoes;  there,  they 
fabricated  little  hot-air  engines  which  propelled 
those  instruments  of  destruction.  They  were 
repairing  gauges,  steam  connections,  electrical 
fittings,  what  not. 

Madden  was  tempted  to  pause  and  stare  about 
this  wondershop,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that 
if  he  and  Caradoc  were  discovered  they  would 
be  executed  as  spies.  He  had  not  thought  of 
this  before,  and  the  mere  suggestion  somehow 
made  him  feel  stiff  and  wooden.  He  was  not 
frightened,  but  he  felt  clumsy,  as  a  schoolboy 
does  when  he  makes  his  first  public  speech.  His 
arms  and  legs  felt  wooden;  his  head  did  not 
seem  to  sit  in  a  natural  manner  on  his  neck. 
He  felt  that  if  anyone  glanced  at  him,  he  would 
immediately  betray  himself.  His  walk,  his  looks 
showed  it.  He  could  not  imagine  why  some 
workman  did  not  leap  out,  seize  his  arm  and 
yell  "Spy!" 

After  a  long  stage-frightened  walk,  Caradoc 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     265 

turned  down  another  flight  of  stairs.  Here 
Madden  discovered  the  secret  of  the  cool  air. 
On  this  deck  was  a  big  refrigerating  plant,  with 
frost-covered  pipes  leading  in  all  directions. 
The  sight  of  this  plant  gave  Madden  some 
faint  insight  into  the  thorough  preparation  made 
by  the  German  government  to  carry  on  their 
struggle  by  sea.  Long  before  war  was  declared, 
Germany  must  have  planned  a  naval  base  in  the 
Sargasso,  and  have  foreseen  the  use  of  her  sub 
marines  in  evading  the  blockade.  She  had 
chosen  these  untraveled  seas  as  a  depot,  then 
established  a  refrigerated  machine  shop  in  order 
that  the  full-blooded  German  might  work  com 
fortably  in  the  tropics.  The  plan  seemed  to 
have  been  worked  out  with  infinite  detail. 

From  the  refrigeration  deck,  they  descended 
to  still  another  deck  into  the  very  bowels  of  the 
ship.  This  descent  brought  them  to  a  long 
gallery  that  was  formed  by  a  bulkhead  running 
down  the  center  of  the  ship.  As  they  entered 
this  passage,  three  workmen  came  out  of  a  small 
steel  door  that  opened  into  this  central  wall. 
One  of  the  workmen  carefully  rebolted  the 
door,  yawned  sleepily  and  followed  his  com- 


266      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

rades  toward  the  companionway.  As  he  passed 
he  grunted  something  to  Caradoc.  Madden's 
heart  beat  faster  lest  they  should  be  discovered 
at  this  last  hour.  He  had  no  idea  what  mission 
moved  the  Englishman,  but  he  sensed  that  here 
was  his  destination.  Smith  made  some  reply 
in  German,  moved  briskly  ahead  until  he  came 
to  the  small  steel  door.  He  laid  his  hand 
familiarly  upon  the  bolts,  shot  them  back,  swung 
open  the  door.  One  of  the  men  whirled  about 
and  stared  back  at  this  assured  intruder.  Smith 
stood  aside  and  with  a  curt  military  gesture 
motioned  Madden  to  enter.  The  American  drew 
an  uncertain  breath,  glanced  at  the  three  Ger 
mans  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye  and  stepped  into 
the  dark  square.  Caradoc  followed  him.  The 
laborers  went  on  updeck  apparently  satisfied. 

An  electric  wire  was  let  in  through  the  door. 
Caradoc  reached  for  it,  followed  it  with  his 
hand  and  presently  turned  a  switch.  Next 
moment  a  bright  flood  of  light  bathed  the 
tubular  chamber  in  which  they  stood. 

Madden  glanced  about.  He  stood  in  a  room 
whose  roof  formed  a  half  circle  over  his  head. 
The  place  seemed  as  full  of  machinery  as  a 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     267 

watch  case.  Fore  and  aft  were  circular  parti 
tions  of  steel,  like  drumheads.  These  were  pen 
etrated  with  sliding  shutters,  which  stood  open. 
Through  the  after  shutter,  Madden  saw  a  large 
Deisel  oil  engine,  flanked  by  a  compact  heavy 
dynamo.  Looking  forward,  he  could  see  steel 
cylinders  trimmed  in  shining  brass,  and  a  maze 
of  levers,  gauges,  dials,  valves. 

The  central  compartment  in  whicli  the  two 
stood  was  dominated  by  a  little  spiral  stairway 
leading  up  into  a  steel  dome.  On  a  shelf  set  in 
the  bulkhead  was  a  chart,  a  telephone  receiver, 
speaking  tubes,  dials  with  red  and  black  hands, 
an  array  of  electrometers,  pressure  gauges. 

Glancing  up  the  stairway  into  the  little  dome, 
Madden  saw  a  pilot  wheel,  more  levers  and 
speaking  tubes  and  telephone  receivers,  and  a 
square  of  ground  glass,  that  was  lined  off  with 
delicate  cross-lines. 

"Where  are  we?"  asked  Madden,  amazed. 
"  What  do  they  do  here?  I  never  saw  so  much 
machinery  before  in  so  small  a  space." 

Caradoc  was  stooping  over  a  heavy  metal 
box  down  at  the  floor  level  at  the  side  of  the 
desk.  It  was  one  of  a  series  of  such  boxes. 


268      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  We're  inside  of  that  submarine  you  saw 
enter  a  few  hours  ago,"  explained  the  English 
man  shortly. 

Leonard  stared  around  with  new  eyes.  "  So 
this  is  a  submarine!  Do  you  know  anything 
about  them?  What's  that  spirit  level  for?" 
He  pointed  at  a  horizontal  gauge. 

"Measures  air  pressure  —  it's  not  a  level." 

"What's  in  these  steel  tanks  overhead?" 

"  Compressed  air." 

"What's  that  you  are  getting  into?"  Here 
Caradoc  lifted  the  lid,  and  Madden  got  a  view. 
"Say,  that's  a  torpedo,  isn't  it?"  he  asked 
quickly  as  he  saw  a  long  needle-pointed  steel 
cigar  with  propeller  and  rudder  on  the  aft  end. 

The  Englishman  made  no  reply.  He  leaned 
over  and  selected  a  small  steel  crowbar  from  a 
tool  locker,  drew  it  out  with  a  quick  nervous 
movement. 

"  Say ! "  cried  Madden  catching  the  strange 
expression  on  the  face  of  his  friend,  "are  you 
going  to  try  to  launch  this  and  escape  on  it  — 
escape  on  a  torpedo?" 

A  mirthless  smile  flickered  over  the  English 
man's  gray  face.  "  Nothing  so  fanciful." 


CARADOC  TAKES  COMMAND     269 

A  sixteen  foot  torpedo  lay  in  a  steel  frame 
on  a  runway,  just  ready  to  slide  forward  into 
the  big  expulsion  tube  that  was  the  salient 
feature  of  the  forward  compartment  Caradoc 
walked  quickly  to  the  nose  of  the  terrific  missile. 
He  looked  at  his  friend  and  said  in  a  strange 
voice :  "  Madden,  I'm  going  to  wipe  this  Ger 
man  ship-trap  off  the  map ! " 

A  sort  of  spasm  clutched  the  American's 
diaphragm.  "  You  don't  mean "  he  man 
aged  to  gasp, 

"Yes,  this  is  for "  He  swung  up  his 

crowbar. 

Madden  on  the  other  side  the  gasoline-scented 
chamber  had  a  sensation  as  if  someone  had 
jabbed  keen  needles  into  his  throat,  breast, 
stomach. 

"Caradoc!  Don't!  Don't !"  he  screamed  and 
leaped  toward  the  desperate  man. 

It  was  all  done  at  once. 

"  For  England !  "  completed  Caradoc  Smith, 
and  fetched  down  a  furious  doubled-handed 
blow  on  the  primer  of  the  big  steel  chamber 
packed  with  guncotton. 

The  crowbar  landed  with  a  crash! 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  GET-AWAY 

Both  lads  leaned  against  the  machinery,  limp, 
dripping  cold  perspiration.  Caradoc  was  the 
first  to  speak. 

"  Didn't  have  its  war  head  in! " 

Leonard  mumbled  something  through  the 
slime  in  his  mouth. 

"  I  ought  to  find  the  connection  and  explode 
it,"  repeated  Caradoc  doggedly. 

Madden  moved  weakly  over  beside  him.  "  No 
you  won't.  You  aren't  going  to  murder  us  all 
.  .  .  not  going  to  do  it ! " 

Caradoc  remained  motionless,  his  long  face 
gray  under  the  electric  lights.  "I  fail  —  at 
everything/'  he  mumbled. 

Leonard  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  torpedo 
case  and  looked  at  the  long,  slender  destroyer. 
He  had  a  watery  feeling,  as  if  just  arising  from 
a  long  illness. 

270 


THE  GET-AWAY,  271 

"Let's  get  out  of  here/'  he  breathed. 

"  Wait  ...  we  must  seem  normal.  You  — 
you  look  blue  —  spotted." 

"I  feel  blue  and  spotted.  I  was  scared  — 
never  was  so  scared  in  all  my  life." 

"  Sit  here  till  you  get  over  your  j-jolt." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  the 
American  apprehensively  as  Smith  arose. 

"  I  must  disable  this  machinery  and  give  the 
tug  a  chance  to  escape." 

"Still  got  that  in  your  head?" 

"  I  must  do  something  —  I  ought  to  explode 
that  torpedo!" 

"You're  not  going  to  do  that,  Caradoc. 
You're  not!  I  have  no  —  no  appetite  to  be  a 
martyr." 

The  Englishman  made  no  reply,  but  began 
moving  around  among  the  machinery  with  the 
crowbar.  Leonard  stirred  himself  to  follow. 

"You  —  you're  not  up  to  anything  —  not 
going  to  blow  us  up?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not  going  to  blow  you  up.  That's 
my  word." 

Oddly  enough,  Madden  accepted  it  very 
simply,  and  went  back  and  sat  on  the  torpedo 


272      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

case.  He  fell  to  stroking  the  smooth  steel  flank 
of  the  thing  as  if  it  were  some  animal.  The 
thing  had,  as  it  were,  refused  to  blow  him  to 
bits  at  Smith's  request. 

The  Englishman  walked  about  busily,  thrust 
ing  his  bar  in  among  dial  connections,  snapping 
brass  pipes,  wrecking  the  telephone  connections. 
He  laid  about  him  viciously,  knocking,  crashing, 
smashing.  Then  he  hurried  back  into  the  rear 
compartment,  knocked  to  pieces  the  bearings 
and  valves  of  the  Deisel  engine,  tangled  up  the 
wiring  of  the  storage  batteries  and  the  dynamo, 
beat  off  her  brushes,  disrupted  the  clutch  on  the 
crank  shaft. 

It  was  shocking  to  Madden  to  see  Caradoc 
smash  and  destroy  such  delicate  and  costly 
machinery.  He  went  about  his  task  with  a 
kind  of  bottled  ferocity,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
submarine  looked  as  if  it  had  let  loose  a  cyclone. 
Presently  the  youth  paused  in  his  vandalism  and 
glanced  about  with  satisfaction. 

"All  right/'  he  said  in  a  more  normal  tone, 
"if  you  are  ready  to  go,  get  a  wrench  and  a 
cold-chisel,  smudge  your  face  with  a  little  oil 
and  iron  black,  and  we'll  get  away  from  her%" 


THE  GET-AWAY  273 

Madden  saw  the  importance  of  completing  his 
disguise  in  this  manner.  He  splotched  his  face, 
found  the  tools  indicated  by  Smith  in  the  locker, 
then  walked  out  through  the  manhole  into  the 
passageway  once  more. 

There  was  no  one  in  sight  as  they  came  out. 
They  passed  up  through  the  cool  refrigerating 
room  and  through  the  machine  shop  with  its 
contented  workmen.  Madden  wondered  how 
those  men  would  feel  if  they  knew  that  a  few 
minutes  past,  they  were  hanging  on  the  fringe 
of  eternity. 

The  two  smudged  tool-bearers,  who  walked 
rather  shakily  to  the  upper  deck,  did  not  even 
provoke  a  questioning  glance  from  the  work 
men.  A  few  minutes  later  the  boys  emerged 
once  more  from  the  sleeping  deck  onto  the  boat 
deck.  It  was  still  deserted  save  for  the  solitary 
guard  who  paced  back  and  forth  in  stiff  military 
fashion. 

Caradoc  moved  down  to  the  hanging  laundry 
and  paused  under  the  port  hood.  He  tapped  it 
gently.  From  the  interior  came  Malone's 
thick  whisper.  Smith  passed  in  the  tools  and 
whispered. 


274      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  Force  the  door  open  gently.  Walk  out  as 
if  you  were  sailors.  Close  the  door  and  pre 
tend  to  lock  it.  Meet  me  out  here  at  the  head  of 
the  ship's  ladder,  where  the  guard  is  stationed." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  came  a  whisper, 

Then  Madden  and  Smith  strolled  on  down 
toward  the  man  with  the  gun.  As  they  walked, 
Smith  whispered: 

u  When  you  hear  me  clear  my  throat,  get 
within  striking  distance.  When  I  cough,  silence 
him.  I'll  help  you," 

Madden  nodded  slightly,  and  the  two  drew 
near  the  pacing  guard.  Caradoc  lifted  hand  to 
forehead  as  they  passed  and  a  little  later  seated 
themselves  on  the  rail  near  the  ladder.  Madden 
looked  down  curiously  and  thought  he  could 
make  out  the  shape  of  the  dinghy  below,  but  was 
not  certain. 

The  American's  nerves  still  tingled  from  the 
torpedo  incident,  and  now  he  glanced  out  of  the 
tail  of  his  eye  at  the  guard,  whom  he  would 
probably  have  to  fight. 

The  fellow  was  a  broad-chested,  short-necked 
German,  armed  with  rifle  and  bayonet.  The  bay 
onet  had  a  bluish  gleam  under  the  incandescent. 


THE  GET-AWAY  275 

It  was  a  queer  thought  to  Madden  to  know 
that  within  the  next  fifteen  minutes,  he  would 
perhaps  be  under  rifle  fire,  rowing  or  swimming 
away  through  the  black  night,  or  he  might  be 
dead.  Dead,  and  the  world  would  end  for  him, 
and  the  war  of  the  world  or  the  peace  of  the 
world  would  be  all  the  same  for  him. 

Madden  shrugged  his  shoulders,  drew  a  long 
breath  and  stared  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
Vulcan.  He  could  see  nothing  of  the  tug.  The 
moon  had  sunk  and  the  stars  burned  with  a 
more  vivid  fire.  The  musing  boy  noted  the 
position  of  the  Hydra,  and  fancied  it  might  be 
somewhere  near  midnight.  Just  then  his  guess 
was  confirmed  by  four  double  strokes  of  the 
bell.  There  would  be  a  change  of  guards.  Per 
haps  the  next  man  would  not  be  so  unsuspecting. 

Just  then  Madden  observed  another  deck  gang 
coming  up  the  promenade.  He  wondered  how 
often  they  scrubbed  deck  on  this  vessel.  He 
hoped  this  crew  would  soon  pass,  as  it  would 
make  escape  impossible  if  their  men  made  a 
break  while  the  sweepers  were  in  hearing.  Their 
slow  approach  made  him  nervous.  Suppose  one 
of  them  suspected  something  wrong? 


276      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Just  then  Caradoc  yawned  and  cleared  his 
throat.  Madden  looked  around  at  his  friend 
with  a  slight  start.  The  Englishman  did  not 
see  the  approaching  sailors.  Madden  frowned 
conspicuously,  but  Smith's  long  face  was  placid, 
and  he  cleared  his  throat  again. 

The  guard  was  now  about  to  pass  Madden. 
The  American  shifted  his  legs  slightly  for  a 
position  to  jump,  nevertheless  frowning  warn- 
ingly  at  Caradoc.  The  scrubbers  were  fairly 
close  now.  Caradoc  arose  negligently  and 
coughed. 

In  the  teeth  of  the  scrub  gang,  Madden  leaped 
headlong  at  the  guard  and  his  fingers  gripped 
the  man's  throat.  At  the  same  instant,  Caradoc 
ducked  under  his  legs.  As  the  foremost  of  the 
scrub  gang  wrenched  the  rifle  from  the  guard's 
hands,  Madden  saw  with  joy  that  they  were 
Malone  and  his  men.  The  three  fell  with  a  dull 
thumping  on  the  deck.  The  guard  tore  at  Mad- 
den's  fingers  which  crushed  in  his  throat.  From 
underneath,  Caradoc  panted  in  sharp  whispers: 

"Overboard!     Down   the   ladder!     Quick!" 

As  he  snapped  out  his  orders,  the  Englishman 
was  working  his  hold  up  past  the  floundering 


THE  GET-AWAY  277 

guard's  waist.  Madden's  grip  was  about  to  break 
under  the  strain  the  Teuton  put  on  it,  but  his 
fingers  clung  desperately  to  the  fellow's  throat, 
for  one  shout  would  bring  a  hornet's  nest 
around  the  fugitives.  Just  then  Malone  whis 
pered  hoarsely: 

"  They're  all  overboard,  sir." 

Leonard  caught  the  soft  stir  of  oars  in  the 
water  below. 

"  Shall  Hi  stick  'im,  sir?  "  whispered  Malone, 
grabbing  the  guard's  bayoneted  rifle.  "  Yonder 
comes  the  new  guard! " 

Caradoc,  who  had  been  willing  to  blow  up  a 
whole  shipful  of  men,  panted  out  a  sharp 
"  No ! "  Just  then  the  Englishman's  long  fin 
gers  slipped  up  on  the  tendons  that  ran  down 
the  guard's  neck  from  his  ears.  He  pinched 
them  sharply.  The  struggling  man  suddenly 
gasped  and  lay  still.  Caradoc  leaped  to  his 
feet.  Madden  scrambled  up.  Both  were  drip 
ping  with  sweat.  A  man  with  a  rifle  was  run 
ning  down  the  deck  toward  them.  The  fellow 
raised  his  rifle. 

"  Overboard ! "  gasped  Caradoc  and  took  a 
sudden  leap  over  the  rail  into  the  night.  Mad- 


278      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

den  followed,  trusting  not  to  hit  the  dinghy  and 
kill  himself.  Malone  was  already  scrambling 
down  the  rope  ladder  as  fast  as  he  could  go* 

While  a  dive  of  one  or  two  hundred  feet  is 
not  uncommon,  still  Madden's  thirty-five  foot 
drop  sent  chill  tickly  sensations  through  his 
chest  and  throat.  It  seemed  as  if  he  would 
never  stop  falling  through  the  darkness,  but  at 
last  he  struck  the  water  and  went  down,  down, 
down. 

When  he  finally  kicked  himself  back  to  the 
surface  and  thrust  his  head  out,  he  heard  a 
violent  whispering  among  the  excited  boatmen. 
A  moment  later  an  oar  struck  him  under  the 
armpit.  Madden  seized  it,  whispered  his  own 
name  and  scuttled  in  over  the  gunwale.  The 
men  were  shoving  desperately  at  the  ship's  side 
in  an  effort  to  get  the  dinghy  under  way. 

From  the  deck  overhead  came  guttural  shouts 
in  German  and  fainter  answers.  Fortunately 
the  guard  did  not  take  upon  himself  the  respon 
sibility  of  shooting  down  into  the  boat,  and  in 
a  minute  or  two  the  refugees  had  assembled  the 
oars  and  were  rowing  furiously  from  the  mother 
ship. 


THE  GET-AWAY  279 

In  the  dim  zone  of  light  that  belted  the  prom 
enade,  Madden  could  see  a  number  of  hurrying 
figures.  Then  came  a  sharp  command,  and  a 
rifle  stabbed  the  darkness  with  a  knife  of  fire 
and  a  keen  report. 

Immediately  came  another,  then  another,  then 
several.  Bullets  chucked  viciously  into  the 
water  about  the  dinghy. 

Under  the  straining  arms  of  four  oarsmen 
the  little  boat  moved  briskly  out  of  its  perilous 
position.  Jammed  between  two  sailors,  the  boy 
sat  staring  back  at  the  men  gathering  on  the 
promenade.  The  flashing  of  many  rifles  kept  a 
constant  streak  of  light  along  a  considerable 
section  of  the  deck.  Bullets  seemed  to  whine 
within  an  inch  of  his  ears.  The  dinghy  appeared 
to  be  retreating  at  a  snail's  pace,  and  the  fright 
ened  boy  gripped  furiously  at  the  gunwale  in 
an  absurd  effort  to  speed  it  up.  He  twisted 
about,  trying  to  keep  his  shoulders  in  a  line 
with  the  flashing  rifles  so  as  to  offer  the  thin 
nest  target,  A  man  in  the  stern  of  the  dinghy 
groaned,  and  slumped  down  into  the  bottom. 

Just  then  a  searchlight  leaped  into  play  from 
the  top  deck  of  the  ship.  Its  long  ray  shot  out 


280      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

in  a  trembling  cone  through  the  darkness.  It 
switched  here  and  there  with  appalling  swift 
ness.  The  crew  in  the  little  boat  stared  at  it, 
holding  their  breaths.  When  that  leaping  ray 
fell  on  the  dinghy  it  would  be  followed  by  a 
rain  of  steel. 

The  firing  on  the  promenade  deck  ceased, 
waiting  for  the  searchlight  to  direct  their  aim. 
Just  then  the  beam  fell  on  the  Vulcan  with 
dazzling  brilliance.  The  tug  stood  out  sharply 
against  the  night,  and  she  proved  to  be  mucK 
closer  than  Leonard  had  fancied.  The  little 
rowboat  had  been  traveling  faster  than  he 
thought. 

Then  the  brilliant  circle  left  the  tug  and 
began  crawling  carefully  over  the  water  toward 
the  dinghy. 

The  crew  stared  at  the  approaching  light  as 
stricken  birds  in  a  snake's  cage.  Just  then 
Caradoc  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  Let  every  man 
slide  into  the  water  and  swim  for  the  Vulcan." 

The  men  in  the  stern  slipped  into  the  sea 
first  with  muffled  splashes.  The  men  amidship 
climbed  over  the  side  and  went  in  headfirst. 
The  oarsmen  shipped  tkeir  oars  and  took  the 


THE  GET-AWAY  281 

water.  Madden  made  a  long  dive  over  the  side 
and  shot  well  away  from  the  little  boat.  When 
he  came  up,  he  looked  around.  The  fringe  of 
light  was  just  playing  on  the  bow  when  Caradoc 
leaped.  According  to  English  traditions,  he  was 
the  last  man  to  leave  his  vessel,  even  though  it 
were  only  a  dinghy. 

An  instant  later,  a  queer  metallic  ripping 
sound  broke  out  in  the  mother  ship.  Madden 
looked  back  quickly.  From  the  top  deck  there 
was  a  jet  of  fire,  as  if  someone  were  turning  a 
hose  of  flame  in  the  direction  of  the  small  boat. 
Leonard  looked  back  at  the  dinghy.  It  appeared 
as  if  the  ray  of  light  were  beating  the  little 
vessel  into  splinters.  It  seemed  to  crumble  into 
itself,  to  wither,  to  go  to  dust,  and  the  water 
beneath  it  beat  up  in  a  froth  through  its  shat 
tered  hull. 

A  head  bobbed  up  near  Madden,  and  Cara- 
doc's  voice  observed  collectedly. 

"  They're  chewing  it  up  with  a  machine  gun. 
You'd  better  dive  again  —  travel  most  of  the 
way  to  the  tug  under  water.  They'll  be  picking 
us  up,  one  at  a  time,  in  a  moment,  with  the 
same  stream  of  steel." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER 

Fifteen  minutes  later  a  dozen  men  were  kick 
ing  exhaustedly  in  the  water  on  the  port  side  of 
the  Vulcan,  shouting  in  urgent  voices  for  ropes. 
A  few  were  already  clambering  up  the  bobstays. 
There  was  no  reply  from  the  utterly  terrorized 
men  on  the  tug,  then  came  the  whiz  of  missiler 
thrown  through  the  ain 

"Hogan!  Mulcher!  Galton!  Ropes!  Give 
us  your  ladder ! "  bawled  Madden  at  the  top  of 
his  authority. 

"Is  —  is  that  you,  Misther  Madden?"  chat 
tered  Hogan. 

"  Yes,  yes,  ropes,  before  we  drown !  " 

"  Was  that  you  shootin'  at  us  over  there?  " 

"  They  were  shooting  at  us!  They  hit  two 
or  three  of  us!  Hurry!  " 

"And  who's  all  that  wid  ye?  Faith,  the 
wather's  alive  wid  min !  " 

282 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    283 

"We're  the  crew  of  th'  Vulcan!"  "Throw 
down  ropes ! "  "  Shut  up  and  throw  down 
ropes,  ye  bloody  Irishman ! "  howled  an  angry 
chorus. 

"  Th'  crew  o'  th'  Vulcan,  and  thim  all  dead, 
these  weeks  ago!  Sure  if  it's  a  lot  o' 
ghosts " 

But  others  of  the  crew  summoned  enough 
courage  to  fling  down  aid  to  their  old  comrades, 
and  soon  the  men  came  crawling  up  the  dark 
sides  of  the  tug  and  dropped  limply  inboard. 

The  utmost  excitement  played  over  the  crew 
of  the  dock  when  they  identified  the  former 
crew  of  the  Vulcan.  The  air  was  full  of 
excited  questions  and  tired  answers,  but  pres 
ently  the  word  got  out.  It  was  "  War."  The 
news  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  and  grew  in 
portentousness.  War!  Nations  were  at  war! 
These  men  had  escaped  from  a  German  warship ! 

It  was  unbelievable.  It  was  stunning.  Pres 
ently  Caradoc  shouted  out  in  the  darkness  for 
Malone,  Mate  Malone.  The  cockney  answered. 

"  Put  your  firemen  at  the  furnace !  Set  your 
engineers  to  work  on  the  engines.  We  must 
have  steam  up  and  be  away  in  an  hour ! " 


284      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  two  crews  fell  into  silence,  and  Malone 
ordered  his  men  below.  Some  of  the  dock's 
crew  hurried  off  with  the  others  to  cut  down 
coal  in  the  bunkers.  Another  gang  fell  to  work 
pulling  in  the  sea  anchor.  But  over  all  their 
various  activities  hovered  the  vast  consternation 
of  war. 

Caradoc  had  climbed  to  the  bridge  of  the 
Vulcan  and  stood  staring  silently  at  the  bulk 
of  the  mother  ship  that  was  barely  discernible 
through  the  night.  The  searchlight  had  been 
switched  off.  Neither  ship  showed  a  signal. 
From  below  came  the  muffled  sounds  of  men 
working  at  the  furnace,  and  in  five  or  ten 
minutes  a  film  of  smoke  trickled  out  of  the 
Vulcan's  great  funnel. 

Madden  climbed  up  on  the  bridge  beside 
Caradoc. 

"  How  long  before  the  submarine  will  be 
out?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Small  boats  will  come  first,"  replied  Smith. 
"That's  why  they  shunted  off  the  searchlight 
—  to  surprise  us." 

"Will  they  try  to  board  us?" 

"  Certainly.     We'll  have  to  defend  ourselves 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    285 

with  anything  we  can  pick  up,  sticks,  knives, 
hand  spikes " 

At  that  moment  Malone  appeared  from  the 
other  end  of  the  bridge. 

"  We'll  have  steam  up  in  an  hour/'  he 
announced,  glancing  up  at  the  funnel. 

"  An  hour?  "  thought  Madden.  "  That's  time 
enough  for  us  all  to  be  killed." 

Caradoc  said  to  the  mate :  "  Go  forward  and 
tell  the  men  to  arm  themselves,  then  take  posi 
tion  along  the  rail  to  repel  boarders.  Tell  them 
to  look  sharp  for  grappling  hooks  and  throw 
them  down." 

"And  what  will  they  arm  with,  sir?" 

"Use  anything  you  can  find,  hand  spikes, 
knives,  sticks.  They  might  throw  lumps  of 
coal.  A  cricket  player  ought  to  give  a  good 
account  with  a  lump  of  coal." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  grunted  Malone  and  he 
hurried  down  on  deck. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  men  were  scurrying 
around  to  their  positions.  One  or  two  men  had 
gone  down  for  a  sack  of  coal,  a  queer  ammuni 
tion  that  might  possibly  effect  something.  On 
the  other  hand,  Leonard  knew  the  attacking 


286      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

force  would  come  armed  with  mausers,  rapid 
fire  guns,  grappling  hooks,  swords.  A  one 
sided  fight  was  brewing. 

The  American  looked  anxiously  at  the  funnel ; 
a  ribbon  of  black  smoke  filtered  out  into  the  air. 

"  Madden,"  said  Caradoc,  "  they  will  make 
the  hardest  fight  around  the  anchor  ports  and 
amidships.  Which  position  do  you  prefer  to 
defend?" 

"  I  believe  I'll  take  the  forecastle." 

"  Good,  I  wish  you  luck." 

"  Same  to  you." 

As  Madden  moved  down  the  ladder  to  the 
deck,  he  heard,  above  the  murmur  of  the  busy 
men,  the  strong  measured  beat  of  a  ship's  cutter 
approaching  the  tug  with  deliberate  swiftness. 

There  were  some  good  men  stationed  to 
defend  the  forecastle,  Hogan,  Mulcher,  Greer 
and  two  or  three  of  the  Vulcan's  former  crew 
whom  Madden  did  not  know.  As  the  American 
approached  in  the  gloom,  two  men  came  up, 
laden  with  sacks,  and  poured  out  a  pile  of  coal 
on  deck.  Every  lump  was  about  the  size  of  a 
baseball. 

Hogan  recognized  Madden  in  the  darkness. 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    287 

He  was  exuberant  now  that  he  had  learned  his 
enemies  were  human  beings  and  not  ghouls, 

"  Do  ye  think  those  Dutchmen  will  be  able  to 
put  up  a  daycent  foight,  Misther  Madden?"  he 
inquired  hopefully, 

"They  have  plenty  of  arms,  Hogan." 

"  Sure,  that'll  hilp  'em  some.  But  Oi'm  going 
to  knock  th'  head  off  the  spalpeen  that  firrust 
sticks  his  mug  over  that  rail/1 

"  Your  chance  is  coming/1  said  Madden 
soberly,  as  he  listened  to  the  increasing  noise 
of  the  oars, 

''Now,  men,"  directed  the  American,  "lie 
flat  down  behind  the  rail  and  use  your  sticks 
and  hand  pikes  to  prize  off  grapnels.  They 
will  shoot  your  hands/' 

"  Very  well,  sor/J  breathed  several  voices* 

The  noise  of  the  oars  grew  louder  until  it 
sounded  immediately  beneath  the  defenders. 
Hogan  stood  up  suddenly,  leaned  over  the  rail 
with  a  lump  of  coal  in  each  hand,  and  threw 
down  viciously.  There  was  a  whack  as  one 
lump  hit  the  boat,  and  a  grunt  as  the  other 
struck  some  man.  In  return  came  a  terrific 
crash  of  rifles,  and  bullets  spattered  the  iron 


288      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

plates  of  the  Vulcan.  Fortunately  Hogan  had 
flopped  down  on  deck  in  time. 

At  that  instant,  the  searchlight  of  the  mother 
ship  swept  the  Vulcan's  deck  with  startling  bril 
liance.  The  first  volley  had  perhaps  been  the 
signal,  and  the  fight  was  on. 

There  came  a  clanging  of  grapnels  on  the  rail 
over  the  crouching  defenders.  Madden  flung 
down  the  one  nearest  him,  but  others  came 
flying  through  the  air  to  take  its  place.  The 
prostrate  men  worked  busily  dislodging  the 
flukes.  The  fusillade  from  below  prevented 
their  getting  on  their  knees,  and  they  were 
forced  to  lie  on  their  backs  as  they  worked  at 
the  hooks.  It  seemed  some  sort  of  queer  game : 
the  attackers  flinging  up  scaling  irons,  the 
defenders  flipping  them  down.  Madden  had 
dislodged  two  or  three,  when  Mulcher  cried  out 
for  help. 

The  enemy  had  succeeded  in  catching  a  fluke 
on  the  rail,  and  putting  so  much  weight  on  it 
that  the  cockney  could  not  prize  it  off.  Immedi 
ately  Hogan  and  another  defender  crawled  to 
Mulcher's  aid  like  big  lizards.  They  thrust  in 
sticks  and  spikes  and  prized  vigorously,  while 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    289 

the  bullets  were  drumming  on  the  plates  outside. 

It  stuck  and  Leonard  started  to  their  aid, 
when  a  hook  in  his  own  territory  demanded  his 
attention.  Just  then  a  head  came  up  over  the 
rail  just  above  Hogan  and  Mulcher.  The  Ger 
man  had  turned  his  automatic  on  the  defenders 
when  Hogan's  shillalah  caught  him  on  the  tem 
ple.  He  reeled  backwards,  his  pistol  spitting 
into  the  air.  He  knocked  down  the  whole  line 
of  men  below  him  amid  crashings,  shoutings 
and  splashings  in  the  water  below.  The  moment 
the  weight  was  off,  Mulcher  loosed  the  grapnel 
and  flung  it  down  into  the  confusion. 

The  hail  of  bullets  was  immediately  renewed, 
and  more  hooks  came  flying  over.  The  iron 
rails  rang  like  a  boiler  shop,  and  the  steel  mis 
siles  glanced  off  whining  like  enormous  mos 
quitoes.  Madden  whirled  his  head  for  a  glance 
aft. 

The  same  sort  of  drama  was  taking  place 
amidship,  boarders  were  climbing  over  the  rail 
and  arms,  sticks,  and  iron  spikes  snapped  out 
of  the  inky  shadows  and  smote  them.  The 
invaders  fired  blindly  into  the  darkness  that 
rimmed  the  deck.  As  to  whether  they  were 


290      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

killing  or  maiming  Caradoc's  crew,  Madden 
could  not  tell. 

One  thing,  however,  he  did  observe,  that 
aroused  an  anxious  hope  in  the  boy's  heart. 
A  heavy  column  of  smoke  ascended  from  the 
tug's  funnel,  and  a  tongue  of  steam  played  in 
its  edge. 

A  frenzy  of  impatience  seized  Madden.  If 
the  Vulcan  could  only  get  under  way  and  escape 
the  fight!  Why  didn't  they  start  at  once!  In 
the  vivid  light,  he  saw  the  steering  wheel  turn 
ing,  apparently  of  its  own  accord,  and  he  knew 
that  someone  was  manipulating  the  hand  grips 
from  the  bottom  side. 

From  those  slight  signs  of  preparation,  Mad- 
den's  attention  was  suddenly  whipped  back  to 
his  business,  by  the  sight  of  two  figures  climb 
ing  on  over  the  prow  of  the  Vulcan.  These  men 
had  no  doubt  caught  a  hook  in  the  anchor  port 
and  had  climbed  up  without  opposition. 

The  invaders  stood  clearly  limned  by  the 
searchlight,  trying  to  pick  out  a  target  for  their 
fire,  when  Madden  reached  for  the  coal  pile. 
The  American  had  once  been  pitcher  for  his 
college  team,  and  the  lump  of  coal  crashed  under 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    291 

the  first  man's  jaw  and  he  dropped  backwards 
as  if  hit  by  a  piece  of  shrapnel.  The  second 
gunman  banged  at  the  shadow  where  Madden 
.was  hid.  The  bullets  sang  about  the  American's 
ears,  when  Deschaillon's  ostrich-like  kick  flashed 
through  the  light  and  caught  the  sailor  in  the 
pit  of  the  stomach.  The  automatic  dropped 
from  his  hand,  and  he  crimped  up  like  a  stuck 
grubworm. 

But  while  the  defenders  were  occupied  with 
this  little  flank  attack,  half  a  dozen  hooks  were 
firmly  lodged  on  the  rail,  and  at  least  eight  men 
were  mounting  swiftly.  At  their  head  came  an 
officer  waving  a  sword.  The  firing  from  below 
suddenly  ceased,  lest  they  hit  their  own  men. 
In  the  silence  that  followed,  Madden  heard  the 
hiss  of  rising  steam,  and  from  somewhere  the 
tinkle  of  a  bell. 

Suddenly  out  of  the  shadows,  the  whole  force 
of  the  defenders  leaped  at  the  Germans  and 
attacked  them  as  they  strode  over  the  rail. 
There  was  a  clattering  of  revolvers,  a  thwack 
ing  of  sticks  and  iron  pins,  and  the  smashing 
of  thrown  coal. 

Then  the  combatants  grappled  hand  to  hand 


292      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

on  the  rail  of  the  tug,  swinging  eerily  in  and 
out  like  wrestlers,  a  strange  sight  in  the  beating 
searchlight. 

Madden  closed  with  the  officer,  and  by  good 
fortune  caught  his  right  wrist,  so  the  fellow 
could  not  shorten  his  sword  and  stab  him.  The 
American  kept  trying  to  twist  the  German's 
arm  and  make  him  drop  his  blade,  but  the  fellow 
had  thrust  his  left  hand  under  Madden's  arm 
pit  and  reached  up  and  caught  him  about  the 
forehead.  The  result  was  a  back  half  nelson, 
and  put  Madden's  neck  under  a  terrific  strain. 

In  return  he  choked  his  adversary,  but  Mad- 
den's  mastoid  muscles  slowly  gave  way  before 
the  German's  punishing  hold.  His  head  bent 
back,  while  he  clung  desperately  to  the  sword 
hand  and  crushed  in  the  fellow's  gullet.  There 
was  a  roaring  in  Madden's  ears  that  was  not 
from  the  fighting  men.  His  neck  and  back 
slowly  curved  backward  under  the  strain.  Had 
it  not  been  for  the  menace  of  the  sword,  he 
could  have  wriggled  out  with  a  wrestler's  shift, 
but  if  he  loosed  the  right  hand  .  .  .  Madden 
wondered  if  he  could  fall  backwards  and  still 
maintain  his  hold  on  the  sword.  If  he  could 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    293 

ever  get  down  without  being  stunned  by  his  fall, 
his  strangle  hold  would  give  him  an  immediate 
advantage.  He  swung  backwards,  but  the  fel 
low  did  not  go  with  him,  but  began  a  furious 
struggle  to  loose  his  weapon.  Madden  clung 
grimly.  His  whole  body  dripped  with  sweat, 
as  he  held  away  the  sword  and  tried  to  choke 
the  fat  neck  of  his  antagonist.  He  shoved  the 
fellow's  throat  with  all  his  power,  trying  to 
break  the  nelson,  but  the  pressure  jammed  his 
own  head  back  till  a  hot  pain  streaked  through 
the  base  of  his  skull. 

At  that  moment  a  tremor  ran  through  the 
tug,  and  there  came  a  chough-choughing  in  her 
stack.  Immediately  followed  a  great  shouting 
and  a  frantic  pelting  of  grapnels  from  the  sea 
below.  Madden  knew  that  the  Vulcan  had  at 
last  got  under  steam,  and  would  probably  escape. 
This  came  to  him  dimly  as  his  left  hand,  which 
had  been  struggling  to  fend  off  the  sword,  grad 
ually  lost  its  grip  on  the  German's  sweaty  slip 
pery  wrist. 

Along  up  and  down  the  rail,  he  knew  that 
the  men  battled  with  varying  results.  Came 
dimly  to  his  roaring  ears  shouts,  groans  and 


294      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

blows.  In  another  minute  the  sword  would  split 
his  ribs. 

A  breeze  sprang  up.  The  Vulcan  was  gather 
ing  headway. 

He  was  bracing  his  last  efforts  against  the 
force  that  was  bending  him  double,  when  a  long- 
legged  figure  rushed  from  amidship,  seized  the 
swordsman  around  the  waist,  and  with  a  mighty 
heave,  flung  the  fellow  upward  and  outward 
into  the  sea,  falling  end  over  end  —  a  grotesque 
gyrating  figure  in  the  searchlight,  still  waving 
his  sword. 

"  Down !  Down !  Everybody !  "  yelled  Cara- 
doc,  as  he  waded  up  the  rail,  overthrowing  the 
last  of  the  boarders. 

Madden  and  the  defenders  fell  prone  on  the 
deck,  and  it  was  not  too  soon.  The  moment  the 
boarding  party  was  definitely  repulsed,  there 
broke  out  a  crashing  volley  from  the  long  boat, 
and  their  bullets  played  a  ringing  tattoo  over 
the  ironwork.  Then  the  tug  drew  steadily  away 
from  their  assailants. 

The  searchlight  played  over  the  steamer  for 
several  minutes  in  order  to  afford  a  target  for 
the  small  boats,  but  the  crew  lay  close,  only 


NERVE  VERSUS  GUNPOWDER    295 

trusting  an  eye  over  the  sheer  strake  now  and 
then  for  a  glimpse  of  the  enemy.  Up  on  the 
bridge,  Leonard  could  see  the  steering  wheel 
still  turning  of  its  own  accord  this  way  and 
that  as  the  Vulcan  gathered  speed. 

Presently  the  searchlight  was  switched  off, 
leaving  the  deck  in  utter  darkness.  The  cutters 
had  given  up  the  chase.  Leonard  sat  up  on 
deck  and  wriggled  his  sore  neck  this  way  and 
that.  He  could  see  nothing  now  save  the 
stream  of  sparks  that  leaped  out  of  the  funnel 
and  flowed  aft  into  the  black  sea. 

"Men!"  cried  Caradoc's  voice,  "is  anyone 
hurt?" 

"  A  few  of  us  'ave  'oles  punched  in  us,  sor ! " 
came  a  reply. 

"All  the  wounded  will  report  to  Captain 
Black  in  the  main  cabin ! "  called  Smith. 

There  was  a  shuffling  of  feet  on  deck,  as  the 
men  passed  aft  through  the  darkness. 

At  that  moment,  out  of  the  mother  ship  there 
flared  another  bright  light  that  wavered  about 
the  horizon  for  a  moment  and  finally  settled  on 
the  Vulcan.  The  wounded  men  dodged  below 
the  rail  again,  but  no  bullets  came. 


296      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

This  light  was  not  stationary.  It  crept  down 
through  the  inky  sea  toward  the  fugitives  and 
grew  larger  and  brighter  in  their  eyes. 

"Wot  is  that?"  cried  several  apprehensive 
voices. 

Caradoc  stood  erect  by  the  rail,  watching  this 
new  development. 

"  Malone,"  he  called  to  the  man  hidden  on 
the  bridge,  "what  speed  can  this  boat  make?" 

"Hi've  got  as  'igh  as  eighteen  knots  out  of 
Jer,  sir." 

"  Signal  '  full  speed  ahead '  and  call  down  to 
the  firemen  for  all  the  steam  we  can  carry." 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

Caradoc  looked  at  the  light  for  a  minute  or 
two  longer  and  then  remarked  to  Madden. 

"  They  couldn't  have  repaired  that  submarine 
for  several  hours  longer.  They  must  have  had 
two." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
CHASED  BY  A  SUBMARINE 

Wheezing,  coughing,  shaking  in  every  plate, 
vomiting  into  the  sky  a  trail  of  smoke  that 
extended  clear  to  the  eastern  horizon,  the  Vul 
can  shouldered  her  way  at  top  speed  across  the 
mazy  lanes  of  the  Sargasso.  The  tug  had  come 
a  queer  crooked  path  across  that  sea,  and  the 
lay  of  her  smoke  trail  down  the  pearly  glow  of 
dawn  still  marked  her  tortuous  course. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred,  but  the  speed  of 
the  vessel  sent  a  breeze  whipping  over  the  poop 
of  the  steamer  where  a  group  of  battered  men 
stared  fixedly  over  the  long  frothing  path  of 
the  screw.  Several  of  the  group  wore  band 
ages,  two,  unable  to  stand,  sat  in  steamer  chairs, 
all  had  the  pale  faces  of  all-night  watchers,  but 
every  eye  in  the  crowd  scanned  with  feverish 
intensity  the  spangled  ocean  over  which  they 
fled. 

297 


298      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  wind  snatched  at  the  clothes  and  band 
ages  of  the  intent  men.  Masses  of  seaweed 
swept  like  gray  blurs  down  the  sheer  of  the 
tug's  wake.  Just  beneath  them  the  propeller 
rushed  with  watery  thunder. 

"Yonder  she  rises!  "  cried  one  of  the  watch 
ers,  pointing  at  two  wireless  masts  that  rose  like 
the  fins  of  a  racing  shark  above  the  green  sur 
face  of  the  Sargasso. 

"  Yonder  she  rises !  "  repeated  a  voice  amid- 
ship,  and  more  faintly  still  came  the  repetition 
from  the  bridge,  "  Yonder  she  rises  —  hard 
a-port!" 

A  sudden  shift  of  the  rudder  shook  the  Vul 
can  from  peak  to  keelson.  Next  moment  the 
tug  was  speeding  squarely  across  a  seaweed 
field,  and  another  crook  was  added  to  the  smoke 
mark  in  the  sky.  The  Vulcan's  blunt  prow 
drove  through  the  seaweed  at  a  great  rate, 
while  the  clammy  mass  swung  back  together  not 
sixty  yards  behind  the  churning  screw. 

A  strange  race  had  developed  between  the  tug 
and  submarine.  When  both  crafts  were  on  the 
surface  in  open  water,  the  submarine  had  a  knot 
or  two  advantage  of  the  Vulcan  and  could  have 


CHASED  BY  A  SUBMARINE       299 

picked  her  up  in  four  or  five  hours.  But  early 
in  the  night  Caradoc  had  discovered  that  the 
powerful  screw  of  the  steamer,  designed,  as  it 
was,  to  propel  vast  loads,  could  make  the  higher 
speed  across  the  algae  beds. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  submarine  dived  to 
escape  the  drag  of  the  weed,  she  again  became 
the  faster  craft.  But,  in  this  instance,  when 
the  submarine  dived,  the  Vulcan  would  immedi 
ately  take  to  the  open  lanes  and  do  more  than 
preserve  her  distance.  These  constant  shifts 
and  turns  explained  the  ricocheting  course  that 
was  marked  in  smoke  across  the  whitening 
dawn. 

The  submarine  stood  well  out  of  water  and 
skimmed  along  in  the  pink  gleam  like  a  long, 
slender  missile.  Its  flat  deck,  wireless  masts 
and  conning  tower  stood  etched  in  black  against 
the  morning  light.  She  was  consuming  a  fair 
ish  stretch  of  open  water  at  a  high  speed. 

"  She's  game  for  a  long  chase,"  observed 
Hogan,  gently  shifting  a  wounded  arm  in  its 
sling. 

Leonard  Madden  replied  without  removing 
his  eyes  from  the  rushing  boat,  "  She  has  to  be. 


300      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY.  DOCK 

All  of  Germany's  naval  plans  depend  on  her 
destroying  us." 

"It  does  —  and,  faith,  may  Oi  ask  why?" 

"  If  we  get  to  Antigua  and  report  this  to  the 
British  admiralty,  how  long  would  this  Sargasso 
reshipping  arrangement  last  ?  " 

"  Right  you  are  there,  Misther  Madden," 
agreed  Hogan  at  once.  "  We'd  woipe  'em  out, 
wouldn't  we?  We'll  make  it,  too.  If  we  stood 
off  th'  little  didapper  all  night,  you  know  we  can 
all  day." 

Madden  considered  the  fleet  little  vessel. 
"  No,  I  rather  think  she  will  capture  us." 

"And  how's  that?" 

"  The  Sargasso  doesn't  extend  indefinitely. 
In  fact  we  are  nearing  the  southern  limit.  Have 
you  taken  a  look  forward?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  said  Hogan,  taking  vague 
alarm  at  Madden's  tone.  "What's  wrong?" 

"  I  don't  see  many  more  big  seaweed  fields 
ahead.  If  she  gets  us  in  open  water " 

"Why  bad  luck  to  it!  Bad  luck  to  it,  Oi 
say ! "  cried  Hogan  as  the  wind  whistled  about 
him ;  "  running  us  out  o'  the  bushes  loike  a 
swamp  rabbit." 


CHASED  BY  A  SUBMARINE      301 

Just  then  the  submarine  veered  off  her 
straight  course  somewhat  to  extend  her  open 
.water  run  for  two  or  three  miles  up  the  edge 
of  the  field.  A  length  view  showed  her  to  be 
a  delicate  looking  craft.  Her  sharp  prow  cut 
the  water  with  hardly  a  ripple,  in  sharp  con 
trast  to  the  Vulcan,  which  shouldered  up  a 
waterfall  as  she  lunged  forward. 

Suddenly,  and  rather  unexpectedly,  the  sub 
marine  porpoised.  There  was  a  swash  of  foam, 
and  she  was  gone. 

The  men  on  the  poop  stepped  around  to  the 
side  of  the  tug  and  stared  anxiously  southward. 
Bits  of  flotsam  mottled  the  blue  expanse,  but  it 
really  appeared  as  if  the  saving  drift  weed  were 
thinning  to  nothing.  Hogan  glanced  back  over 
the  way  he  had  come. 

"  Sure  it'll  be  a  fair  field  and  no  favor,  sweet 
Peggy  O'Neal !  "  he  hummed  nonchalantly  under 
his  breath. 

At  that  moment  a  violent  shaking  went  over 
the  Vulcan,  and  the  short  boat  swung  her  prow 
about  with  tug-like  promptness.  It  was  as  if 
the  stout  little  craft  had  swung  around  on  her 
heel. 


302      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

"  Faith  and  would  ye  shake  a  man's  arrum 
off ! "  shouted  Hogan  at  nobody  in  particular. 
"And  are  ye  going  back  to  meet  the  friendly 
little  wasp?" 

That  was  exactly  what  Caradoc  was  doing. 
He  had  swung  the  Vulcan  about  in  less  than  a 
hundred  yard  circle  and  was  plowing  straight 
back  the  way  they  had  come. 

The  crowd  on  the  poop  held  their  breath  at 
the  daring  maneuver.  Tug  and  submarine  were 
now  rushing  at  each  other  full  tilt,  only  one  ran 
under  water,  the  other  on  the  surface.  Suppose 
the  submarine  should  thrust  up  a  periscope  for 
an  instant  —  a  cough  of  the  torpedo  tube  and 
the  Vulcan  would  be  blown  to  scrap  iron. 

The  men  on  the  poop  ran  forward,  staring 
with  frightened  eyes  over  the  gray-green  soggy 
field  through  which  the  Vulcan  ripped  her  way. 

It  seemed  fantastic  to  think  that  somewhere 
under  that  lifeless  weed  human  beings  spun 
swiftly  along,  freighted  with  the  most  terrific 
engine  of  destruction.  What  strange  warfare! 
Who  could  have  fancied  that  when  savages 
began  to  use  clubs  to  maul  each  other  it  would 
end  in  this  diabolical  refinement!  Weapons, 


CHASED  BY  A  SUBMARINE       303 

weapons,  weapons  —  the  history  of  man's 
undying  savagery  working  under  new  forms 
of  civilization!  The  war  submarine  —  what  a 
monstrous  offspring  of  genius! 

The  sun  rose  like  a  white-hot  ball  in  the 
brazen  sky  and  the  men  held  to  the  rails,  mouths 
open,  and  stared  ahead  into  the  safe  open  water, 
expecting  every  moment  for  the  Vulcan  to 
spatter  skyward  in  a  volcano  of  fire  and  steel. 

The  boat  itself  rattled  along  with  that  insen 
sibility  of  mechanism  that  sometimes  astounds 
an  apprehensive  man.  Twenty  minutes  later, 
she  turned  into  the  open  lane,  and  was  rushing 
westward  again  at  full  steam. 

An  immense  relief  spread  over  the  crew. 
Galton,  who  stood  on  the  bridge  at  the  wheel 
beside  Caradoc,  blew  out  a  long  breath  and 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  face.  Farnol  Greer 
began  a  windy  whistling  of  "  Winona,  Sweet 
Indian  Maid."  Madden  felt  as  if  a  weight  had 
been  lifted  off  his  brain.  Hogan  was  humming 
a  tune.  But  all  eyes  turned  anxiously  seaward, 
to  see  where  the  submarine  would  "  blow." 

Ten  minutes  later,  a  distant  ripple  in  the 
water  caught  their  watchful  eyes  and  the  wire- 


304      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

less  masts  popped  up,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  great  weed  field,  four  or  five  miles  distant. 

A  spontaneous  cheering  broke  out  on  the 
Vulcan's  decks. 

"  Double  crossed!  Double  crossed!  "  bellowed 
Hogan. 

"  Back  track!  We  put  one  over!  Hurrah 
for  Cap'n  Smith ! "  they  shouted  above  the 
pounding  of  the  engines. 

Everyone  but  Caradoc  wore  the  fixed  exultant 
grin  of  the  man  who  outwits  his  rival.  The 
submarine  had  been  thoroughly  outgeneraled. 
North  and  west  of  the  Vulcan  lay  the  whole 
Sargasso  for  an  endless  chase.  The  diving  boat 
had  lost  the  great  advantage  of  having  the 
steamer  cornered. 

As  the  crew  whistled  and  sang  the  Vulcan 
kicked  a  frothy  course  down  the  long  westward 
lane.  To  every  one's  surprise,  the  submarine 
did  not  dive  immediately,  but  straightened  her 
self  on  the  other  side  of  the  seaweed  field  on  a 
course  parallel  with  her  quarry. 

Madden  climbed  up  on  the  bridge  and  found 
a  pair  of  binoculars  in  the  chart  room.  He  took 
these  outside  and  trained  them  on  the  little 


CHASED  BY  A  SUBMARINE       305 

vessel.  Apparently  the  submarine  intended  to 
remain  at  the  surface  for  some  time,  for  she 
had  opened  her  hatches  and  an  officer  had  come 
out  on  the  slender  deck,  and  stood  looking  at 
the  Vulcan  through  a  telescope. 

At  the  distance,  Madden  could  see  the  fellow 
plainly,  and  even  the  inky  shadow  he  threw  on 
the  deck.  The  officer  perused  the  tug  for  sev 
eral  minutes,  then  allowed  his  glass  to  wander 
around  the  horizon. 

"  They've  come  up  for  air/'  observed  Cara- 
doc,  who  had  approached  his  friend  from 
behind.  "  I  believe  we'd  best  stop  that.  Good 
air  is  a  luxury  with  those  fellows."  He  turned 
to  Galton,  who  was  steering.  "  Swing  her  into 
the  northwest,  my  man." 

The  tug  answered  to  her  helm  with  a  quiver, 
and  in  twenty  minutes  more  was  nosing  her  way 
again  through  the  ooze  of  weed.  The  German 
officer  calmly  completed  his  survey,  folded  his 
telescope,  then  disappeared  down  the  hatch.  A 
few  minutes  later  the  submarine  dived  and  the 
ocean  lay  empty  in  the  burning  sunshine. 

From  below  came  the  clanging  of  Gaskin's 
gong  announcing  dinner.  It  was  odd  how  the 


306      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

little  details  of  life  went  calmly  on  even  when 
life  itself  was  threatened  with  extinction.  As 
Madden  went  below  to  his  meal,  he  met  Malone 
who  came  from  below,  looking  as  black  as  an 
Ethiopian.  The  mate  had  been  directing  the 
firing  in  this  extreme  necessity. 

The  two  fell  in  together  as  they  walked  to 
the  wash  room. 

"  I  daresay  those  fellows  wish  they  had  sunk 
the  Vulcan  when  they  had  her,"  observed  the 
American. 

"They  needed  'er  theirselves,"  explained  the 
mate  in  a  matter-of-fact  way.  "  Those  German 
cruisers  'ave  captured  a  whole  flotilla  of  prizes 
lately,  and  they  needed  th'  tug  to  'andle  'em  for 


'em." 


"  And  they  didn't  need  the  Minnie  B?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all." 

"  Why  didn't  they  sink  her  at  once?  " 

"  Her  cap'n  told  me  she  carried  more  copper 
than  one  submarine  could  reship,  so  they  'ad  to 
wait  for  another,  as  they  didn't  want  to  throw 
no  copper  away." 

Madden  nodded.  "  It  was  the  second  sub 
marine  I  saw  on  the  night  she  foundered."  He 


CHASED  BY  A  SUBMARINE       307 

began  smiling  when  he  thought  what  a  bewilder 
ing  mystery  the  vessel  had  been,  and  how  very 
simple  was  the  explanation. 

By  this  time  Caradoc  had  joined  the  two  men, 
hoping  to  snatch  a  sandwich  and  a  cup  of  coffee 
before  he  was  needed  again. 

"  Have  we  plenty  of  coal,  mate?  " 

"  Bunkers  are  'arf  full,  sir." 

"What's  she  turning  over  now?" 

"  Six,  seventy-five  to  th'  minute,  sir/1  There 
was  a  pause,  then  Malone  asked,  "  Is  there  any 
'opes  of  them  running  out  o'  fuel  ?  " 

"  Not  likely;  they  make  the  trip  to  Hamburg, 
you  know." 

They  were  just  turning  into  the  smelly  galley, 
when  a  startled  voice  sang  out  forward: 

"Sail  ahoy!" 

This  stopped  the  trio  instantly. 

"Where  away?"  called  Caradoc. 

"  Dead  ahead,  sor !  " 

All  three  turned  and  went  running  back 
updeck.  When  they  regained  the  bridge,  Mad 
den  stared  in  the  direction  indicated.  At  first 
the  western  horizon  looked  empty,  then  along 
its  level  line  his  eye  caught  two  tiny  marks 


308      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

against  the  brilliant  sky.  As  it  was  too  small 
for  his  naked  eyes,  he  resorted  to  the  binoculars 
once  more.  Caradoc  was  doing  the  same  thing. 

"  Wot  is  it,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Malone  anxiously. 

When  he  had  focused  his  glasses,  Madden 
made  out  two  fighting  tops  —  steel  baskets  cir 
cling  steel  masts,  thrust  up  menacingly  over  the 
slope  of  the  world. 

"Wot  is  it,  sir?"  repeated  Malone  uneasily. 

Just  then  Madden's  eye  caught  the  flag  at  the 
peak,  as  it  fluttered  under  the  drive  of  the  dis 
tant  ship.  It  was  the  black  cross  on  the  white 
ground,  with  the  dark  upper  left  quarter  of  the 
German  navy. 

Caradoc  took  down  his  glass  at  the  same  time. 

"  They've  been  using  the  wireless,"  he  stated 
evenly,  "  to  run  us  in  a  cul  de  sac.  I  might 
have  known  German  cruisers  were  close 
around."  He  looked  steadily  at  the  distant 
fighting  tops,  then  turned  to  Galton. 

"  Steer  due  north,  quartermaster." 

After  a  moment,  he  said  to  Malone: 

"  When  you  go  below,  send  me  up  coffee  and 
a  biscuit." 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  LONE  CHANCE 

Rushing  up  the  slope  of  the  world  in  a  battle 
line  that  covered  a  wide  sector  of  the  south 
western  horizon,  steamed  four  German  battle 
cruisers.  They  were  four  sea  eagles  dashing  at 
a  little  water  beetle  of  a  tug  —  the  hammer  of 
Thor  swinging  forward  to  crush  an  insect.  The 
submarine  had  signaled  by  wireless  the  whole 
German  South  Atlantic  fleet  to  destroy  the  tug. 

Only  in  the  face  of  this  demonstration  did 
Madden  realize  that  a  great  German  naval 
stratagem  hinged  upon  the  fate  of  the  little 
English  boat.  The  slow,  clumsy  little  Vulcan 
would  decide  the  fate  of  millions  of  dollars 
worth  of  English  shipping.  The  little  vessel 
was  freighted  with  huge  consequences. 

At  first  glimpse  of  the  battle  line,  the  Vulcan 
had  sheered  about,  and  now  rushed  northward, 
stringing  her  black  smoke  flat  behind  her.  Up 

309 


310      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

from  the  south,  the  submarine  followed  on  the 
surface,  although  she  could  not  make  as  good 
time  through  the  weed  as  did  the  Vulcan.  How 
ever,  the  burden  of  destroying  the  English  craft 
had  been  transferred  to  the  cruisers  that  came 
rushing  forward  at  at  least  twenty-five  knots  an 
hour. 

As  Madden  stood  on  the  bridge  in  the  skirling 
wind,  the  little  Vulcan,  the  seaweed  drifts  and 
the  cruisers  reminded  him  of  nothing  so  much 
as  a  rabbit  flying  across  cotton  rows  in  front  of 
four  greyhounds;  only  here  there  were  no 
friendly  briar  patches  or  fence  corners  in  which 
to  double  or  hide.  Never  had  the  Sargasso 
appeared  so  vast,  so  empty,  so  brilliant,  so  hot. 

"Any  chance?"  he  shouted  to  Caradoc  above 
the  rumble  of  machinery  and  the  whistling  of 
the  wind. 

"  There's  always  a  chance !  They  might  foul 
in  these  weeds !  "  he  nodded  aft. 

"  Improbable." 

"Lloyds  would  hardly  insure  us,"  admitted 
the  commander  dryly. 

At  that  moment,  as  if  to  lend  point  to  the 
remark,  came  a  sharp  clap  of  thunder  off  their 


THE  LONE  CHANCE  311 

port  bow.  Madden  whirled  quickly.  A  ball  of 
white  smoke,  the  size  of  a  balloon,  drifted  up  in 
the  air  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant. 

The  American  stared  at  the  smoke  quite  won- 
derstruck,  then  looked  around  at  the  distant 
ships  that  had  not  yet  topped  the  horizon, 

"  Did  they  shoot  this  far?  " 

"  A  request  to  heave  to." 

"  Are  you  going  to  do  it?  " 

At  the  bursting  of  the  shell,  the  men  on  deck 
came  walking  aft  to  the  superstructure,  with 
the  apprehensive  gait  of  men  getting  under 
shelter  from  blasting  operations. 

Caradoc  leaned  over  the  rail  of  the  bridge. 
"Greer!"  he  shouted,  "go  to  the  flag  locker, 
get  out  a  union  jack  and  show  our  colors  on  the 
peak!" 

The  men  pulled  up  at  this,  and  half  a  dozen 
men,  two  or  three  of  them  crippled,  hurried  to 
carry  out  the  order.  In  a  few  minutes  they 
came  running  back  on  deck  with  the  flag. 
They  tangled  the  sheets  after  the  manner  of 
landsmen,  but  finally  the  red  pennant  traveled 
skyward.  There  was  a  brief  hoarse  cheering 
from  the  cockneys. 


312      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

The  flag  was  scarcely  at  the  peak,  when  above 
the  throb  and  rumble  of  the  machinery,  Mad- 
den's  ear  caught  a  queer  droning  noise,  and  a 
moment  later  came  a  deafening  crash  about  two 
hundred  yards  to  the  starboard.  The  water 
beneath  it  was  beaten  to  a  foam,  while  another 
balloon  of  smoke  slowly  expanded  and  thinned 
in  the  breathless  air.  A  long  time  after  the 
bursting  of  the  shell,  Leonard  heard  the  grumble 
of  the  cannon  that  had  fired  it." 

"  Now,  lads/'  shouted  Caradoc,  "  go  below 
and  bring  up  some  rockets ! " 

The  men  set  off  with  a  will,  but  Madden 
viewed  the  situation  without  any  thrill  of 
patriotism  to  gild  a  death  under  the  union  jack. 
The  cruisers  were  slowly  coming  into  full  view. 
Through  his  glasses  he  could  now  see  their 
turrets  and  the  black  gun  ports. 

"What's  the  idea,  Smith?  You  can't  fight 
with  rockets?" 

"  Some  English  vessel  may  see  us,"  answered 
Caradoc  shortly. 

Madden  was  still  more  astonished.  "What 
good  would  that  do?  "  he  called  above  the  wind. 
"  She'd  be  captured,  too." 


THE  LONE  CHANCE  313 

"Certainly,"  agreed  the  Englishman  brus 
quely,  "but  if  she  had  a  wireless,  she  might 
report  the  situation  to  the  Admiralty  before 
they  sank  us." 

Madden  removed  his  binoculars  and  stared  at 
his  friend.  "Are  you  staking  your  life  on  as 
long  a  chance  as  that?" 

"  My  boy,"  said  Smith,  in  an  oddly  matured 
tone,  "when  the  safety  of  one's  country  is  at 
stake,  one  man's  life  doesn't  amount  to  that!" 
he  snapped  his  fingers.  "  If  there's  a  point  to 
be  gained,  you  accept  any  chance  automatically 
—  or  no  chance  at  all" 

The  American  returned  no  answer,  but  there 
flashed  into  his  mind  the  legend  of  the  Tyrian 
;who  beached  his  galley  in  order  to  save  the 
secret  of  Cornwall.  Caradoc's  narrative  was 
oddly  prophetic  of  the  fate  of  the  Vulcan.  And 
Madden  wondered  with  a  quirk  of  grim  humor 
if  there  were  a  foreigner  aboard  that  Tyrian's 
galley,  and  what  he  thought  about  the  sacrifice. 

There  was  another  jagged  report  as  a  shell 
burst  just  aft  the  tug,  then  a  missile  of  some 
thousands  of  pounds  shrieked  through  the  air 
just  above  the  stumpy  masts  and  filled  the  sky 


314      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

with  fire  and  thunder  a  hundred  yards  ahead. 

Out  of  the  cabin  came  the  rocket  bearers, 
quite  over  their  fright  by  now,  and  acting  with 
the  nervous  steadiness  which  acute  danger 
brings.  One  of  the  sailors  from  the  regular 
crew  of  the  tug  moved  along  the  rail,  mounting 
the  fire  signals  one  after  the  other  for  shooting. 
Immediately  behind  him  came  Hogan,  using  his 
one  good  hand  to  fish  matches  from  his  watch 
pocket  and  light  the  fuses. 

The  first  rocket  lit  with  a  sputter,  for  a 
moment  its  fiery  blowing  filled  the  deck  with 
smoke,  then  it  darted  skyward,  with  a  tre 
mendous  swis-s-sh !  Up,  in  a  long  black  column 
it  went,  into  the  very  heart  of  the  hot  brazen 
sky,  then  it  exploded  with  a  faint  pop,  and  a 
black  head  of  smoke  expanded  at  a  prodigious 
height.  In  the  midst  of  the  smoke-filled  deck, 
Hogan  was  applying  his  match  to  another.  So 
as  the  tug  plowed  forward,  tall  slender  pillars 
of  smoke,  crowned  with  swelling  palm-like  heads, 
arose  to  dizzy  heights  out  of  her  path. 

By  this  time  huge  shells  were  bursting  about 
the  Vulcan  with  crashing  monotony.  Some 
times  the  dodging  little  vessel  ran  through  the 


THE  LONE  CHANCE  315 

pungent  gases  of  the  shells  that  were  sent  to 
destroy  her.  Now  and  then  the  giant  missiles 
exploded  under  water  and  sent  furious  water 
spouts  leaping  over  her  decks.  Something 
touched  the  top  of  her  steel  mainmast  and 
snapped  it  off  as  if  it  were  a  straw.  A  few 
minutes  later  the  crew  had  cleared  the  union 
jack  from  the  wreckage  and  had  it  flaunting 
defiantly  from  the  forepeak. 

It  was  an  odd  defiance,  a  tugboat's  challenge 
to  a  German  battle  line.  The  nibbling  of  a 
mouse  once  set  a  lion  free.  Here  was  a  mouse 
endeavoring  to  net  a  whole  herd  of  lions. 

The  cruisers  did  not  overhaul  the  little  vessel 
as  rapidly  as  Madden  had  anticipated.  The 
Vulcan  skurried  through  the  seaweed  fields, 
dodging  this  way  and  that  in  order  to  take 
advantage  of  every  lane  of  open  water,  but  the 
unwieldy  battleships  could  not  accept  small 
advantages,  and  were  forced  to  plow  straight 
ahead,  through  weed  or  wave  as  it  came. 

Thus  the  cruisers  still  fired  at  extreme  range, 
and  the  tug  escaped  destruction  as  a  gnat  might 
jiggle  between  raindrops  and  survive  a  sum 
mer's  shower. 


316      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

Amid  steady  crashes,  Madden  awaited  stoic 
ally  for  the  shot  that  would  erase  the  Vulcan 
from  the  face  of  the  sea.  There  came  another 
splintering  shock;  the  upper  half  of  the  fore 
mast  made  a  curious  jump,  and  came  down  with 
its  rigging  and  plunged  overboard  in  the  rush 
ing  water.  The  obstruction  instantly  choked 
down  the  tug's  speed.  Every  man  in  the  crew 
seized  axe,  saw,  anything,  and  rushed  forward 
in  a  fury  of  impatience,  hacking,  chopping,  saw 
ing,  working  through  the  wreckage  and  cutting 
the  ropes  with  jackknives,  in  an  effort  to  clear 
the  tug  of  debris.  After  an  intolerable  while, 
the  last  ratlines  snapped  like  pistol  shots,  the 
whizzing  end  of  a  rope  struck  a  sailor  and  laid 
him  out  as  if  clubbed,  then  the  foremast  fell 
away  and  the  Vulcan  rushed  forward  again. 

"  Look  ahead,  Madden !  "  shouted  Caradoc  in 
the  uproar.  "  We've  got  to  run  among  thicker 
fields  than  these!" 

By  this  time  the  tug's  rockets  were  spent  and 
the  German  cruisers  were  rushing  down  a  line 
of  gigantic  smoke-palms  that  were  planted  by 
the  little  vessel. 

"You  might  as  well  surrender,"  called  the 


THE  LONE  CHANCE  317 

American  coolly.  "  You  won't  find  a  merchant 
man  if  you  go  in  thicker  fields  —  you  know 
that." 

"  Surrender !  "  bawled  Smith.  "  Do  you  think 
they  shall  have  this  tug  to  haul  their  prizes? 
Let  'em  sink  us,  and  then  pick  us  up  in  boats! 
Look  ahead ! " 

The  American  turned  his  binoculars  obedi 
ently  and  scanned  the  west  and  north.  His 
eyes  traversed  skein  after  skein  of  the  brilliant 
colorful  patternings,  but  he  was  unable  to  find 
a  very  closely  netted  region.  He  was  about  to 
announce  his  discovery  to  Caradoc  when  his 
lense  focussed  on  another  grim  menace  almost 
dead  ahead. 

He  stared  at  it  with  a  curious  dropping  of 
hopes  that  he  had  not  suspected  were  in  his 
breast. 

What  he  saw  was  another  fighting  top.  That 
pertinacious  submarine  had  apparently  sur 
rounded  the  elusive  Vulcan  with  German  fight 
ing  ships. 

Leonard  removed  his  field  glasses  and  stood 
for  a  full  minute  filled  with  a  keen  frustration. 
The  splitting  din  about  him  roared  on  uninter- 


318      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

ruptedly,  and  yet  somehow  he  had  been  hoping 
the  Vulcan  would  escape. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  bawled  Smith, 
who  had  been  watching  the  submarine,  which 
was  once  more  drawing  dangerously  close. 

"  We  can't  go  in  this  direction,  Smith ! " 
shouted  Leonard  hopelessly.  "  There  are  more 
ships  in  that  direction." 

"Warships?"  demanded  Caradoc  swinging 
his  spyglass  around. 

"Yes,  fighting  tops!" 

Both  lads  focused  in  the  new  direction. 

"  Those  Germans  do  everything  thoroughly," 
shouted  Leonard,  "  even  to  sinking  a  tug! " 

But  instead  of  despairing,  Caradoc,  after  a 
single  glance,  rushed  over  to  the  speaking  tube 
to  the  boilers.  He  blew  the  whistle  shrilly,  then 
folded  it  back  and  screamed  down. 

"  Malone !     Malone !     Malone !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir !  "  came  back  the  muffled  voice 
through  the  pipe. 

"  Give  her  all  steam  possible !  Blow  her  up ! 
Speed  her,  man,  speed  her !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir !  "  returned  the  same  voice. 

"  Caradoc !      Caradoc !      Are    you    insane !  " 


THE  LONE  CHANCE  319 

bawled  Leonard.     "  Do  you   imagine  you  can 
outrun  two  squadrons  of  German  cruisers?" 

"  German  cruisers !  That's  England's  line  of 
battle,  Madden!  England!  Old  England!  God 
let  me  get  to  them  and  tell  'em  what  I  know, 
then  I  don't  care  what  happens ! " 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  BATTLE 

"Th'  signal  book!  Get  the  signal  book!" 
bawled  Greer  amid  the  uproar. 

"Were  is  it?" 

"In  the  flag  locker!  Chuck  the  flags  out, 
too !  Scatter  'em  out !  " 

"  Wot  you  want  to  signal?  " 

"  Submarine  —  tell  'em  to  look  out  for  sub 
marines  ! " 

Hogan,  who  held  the  volume  in  the  crook  of 
his  bandaged  arm,  licked  his  thumb  and  jabbed 
through  the  leaves  in  distracted  attention. 
"  There  aren't  no  code  letters  for  submarine ! " 
he  cried  at  last  —  "  not  in  here !  " 

"  No,"  shouted  Black,  the  Vulcan's  former 
captain,  "that's  an  old  code  —  wasn't  any  sub 
marines  then ! " 

"  Spell  it  out !  "  commanded  Caradoc  from  the 
bridge.  "  Sharp  about  it!  " 

320 


THE  BATTLE  321 

The  men  worked  in  a  clutter  of  buntings, 
assembling  the  flags  in  nervous  haste.  Black 
laid  out  the  nine  letters  and  the  crew  hurriedly 
hooked  them  together.  Ten  minutes  later,  they 
strung  the  signal  between  the  two  splintered 
masts  ;with  a  queer  drunken  gala  effect. 

The  Vulcan  was  no  longer  the  German  squad 
ron's  sole  target.  Down  on  the  Teuton  battle 
line  thundered  five  English  cruisers,  filling  the 
north  with  rolling  smoke,  their  turrets  spangled 
with  cannon  flashes,  prows  shearing  white  walls 
of  foam. 

The  sky  above  the  Vulcan  was  filled  with  the 
drone  of  hurtling  shells.  They  sounded  as  thick 
as  swarming  bees.  The  cannon  fire  of  the 
approaching  English  ships  mounted  to  a  ragged 
roar.  When  the  on-coming  line  was  less  than 
five  miles  distant,  Caradoc  shouted  an  order  to 
Galton  and  the  little  tug  swung  around  broad 
side  on,  displaying  her  warning  signal  like  a 
billboard.  Through  the  battle  smoke,  Madden 
saw  an  answering  flag  go  up  on  the  nearest 
ship.  A  cheer  broke  out  from  the  crew;  at  this 
recognition  of  their  work. 

"They'll  pass  it  around  among  the  fleet  by 


322      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

wireless!"   shouted  Caradoc  in  Madden's  ear. 

"Do   you   know   that    ship,    Smith?"    called 
Madden  excitedly. 

"The  Panther  —  held  a  commission  on  her 


once." 


"Is  it  possible?"  Madden  peered  at  her 
through  his  glasses  with  renewed  scrutiny. 

They  were  so  close  now  that  the  American 
could  pick  out  the  crew  of  range  finders  working 
in  the  fighting  tops;  he  could  glimpse  the  huge 
guns  in  the  forward  turrets  as  they  flashed  and 
roared  amid  shrouds  of  smokeless  powder  haze. 
Madden  realized  he  was  seeing  what  every 
landsman  dreams  of  seeing :  a  naval  battle.  For 
some  inscrutable  reason,  Caradoc  had  headed 
the  Vulcan  clear  around  and  now  faced  the 
enemy,  like  a  rat  terrier  amid  a  battle  of 
mastiffs. 

Madden  turned  aft  as  the  tug  swung  around 
to  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  Panther.  He 
could  see  German  shells  exploding  now  and 
then  on  her  decks;  sometimes  they  would  strike 
the  sea  and  send  up  typhoons  of  water  and 
weed.  As  he  gazed  a  small-calibre  gun  was 
struck,  and  there  was  nothing  but  a  ragged 


THE  BATTLE  323 

smoking  hole  where  the  port  had  been.  An 
instant  later,  the  mizzen  top  was  shrouded  in 
an  emerald  flame,  and  when  the  smoke  cleared, 
only  a  jagged  stump  of  iron  thrust  skyward. 
The  crew  of  range  finders  had  been  wiped  out 
in  an  instant.  Several  hours  later,  Leonard 
learned  that  the  whole  German  gunfire  had  been 
focussed  for  several  minutes  on  the  Panther. 

But  now  that  gray,  smoke-wreathed  cruiser 
rushed  on  indomitably,  flanked  by  her  thunder 
ing  consorts.  The  half -naked  men  on  the  Pan 
ther's  decks  looked  curiously  small  in  their  huge 
rushing  fortress.  German  shells  battered  her 
decks  amid  spangling  green  flames  but  could  not 
stop  her.  As  she  overtook  the  Vulcan,  the  con 
cussion  of  cannon  fire  and  bursting  shells  grew 
so  terrific  it  ceased  to  be  noise.  It  resolved 
itself  into  blows,  terrific  air  movements  that 
smote  Madden  all  over.  It  pounded  his  ear 
drums  with  physical  blows;  it  tore  at  the  bridge 
of  his  nose,  jarred  his  teeth,  sent  shooting  pains 
through  his  head,  for  he  was  not  wise  enough 
to  stuff  his  ears  with  cotton  and  hold  his  mouth 
open.  It  shook  the  pit  of  his  stomach  and 
nauseated  him.  It  was  a  sound  cyclone.  Added 


324      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

to  this  the  sickening  acrid  smell  of  niter  explo 
sives  rilled  the  atmosphere. 

On  came  the  Panther  through  the  green  foam 
of  German  fire,  mingling  the  mighty  vibrations 
of  her  engines,  the  hiss  of  leaping  walls  of 
water,  tempests  of  cannon  fire  and  vindictive 
shriek  of  leaping  shells. 

Caradoc  leaned  over  to  Madden  and  yelled 
something  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Madden 
shook  his  head  as  a  signal  that  he  could  not 
hear.  Smith  repeated  so  loudly  that  his  long 
face  grew  red  with  the  strain.  It  was  impos 
sible  to  catch  a  word.  Besides,  Leonard's  ears 
ached  as  if  the  drums  were  ruptured. 

Caradoc  caught  up  a  speaking  trumpet  and 
held  it  to  his  friend's  ear. 

"Don't  look  at  the  Panther!"  cried  a 
drowned  voice.  "Watch  ahead  for  the  sub 
marine  ! " 

The  submarine!  Sure  enough,  there  was  the 
submarine,  silent  stiletto,  waiting  beneath  the 
sea  to  stab  this  fiery  monster.  Madden's  heart 
leaped  into  his  throat.  Was  it  possible  so  slight 
an  antagonist  could  engulf  the  battle  cruiser? 

The  American  turned  and  stared  ahead  over 


THE  BATTLE  325 

the  shell-beaten  sea  with  all  his  eyes.  The  little 
Vulcan  was  now  racing  along  some  half-mile  in 
front  of  the  English  battle  line,  her  warning 
signal  still  stretched  between  her  splintered 
masts.  She  rushed  at  top  speed,  vibrating 
under  the  stress  of  her  engines.  Five  or  six 
miles  ahead  the  German  squadron  had  turned 
and  was  flying  southward  before  the  superior 
English  force.  Flashes  of  fire  and  dull  thunder 
still  belched  from  their  after  turrets. 

Leonard  tried  to  confine  his  attention  to  the 
adjacent  waters  in  careful  search  for  the  diving 
boat's  periscope,  but  the  terrific  spectacle  across 
the  smoky  spangled  sea  gripped  his  eyes  beyond 
his  control. 

The  ship  on  the  eastern  wing  of  the  Teuton 
line  was  in  flames.  The  fire  burst  out  of  the 
gun  deck  ports,  lapping  up  over  the  boat  decks 
in  long  red  curling  tongues.  Her  cannon  fire 
had  ceased,  and  from  what  Leonard  could  see, 
he  thought  the  English  ships  had  quit  firing  at 
her.  She  still  fled  southward,  however.  Smoke 
began  to  roll  out  of  her  turrets,  and  her  crew 
came  swarming  out  on  her  deck  like  a  disturbed 
ant's  nest.  Through  his  glasses,  Madden  saw 


326     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

them  hunched  against  the  fire,  working  to 
launch  a  boat,  when  of  a  sudden  there  was  a 
blinding  flare;  a  huge  cloud  of  smoke  leaped 
from  the  sea,  and  after  four  or  five  minutes, 
a  thunder  heavily  audible  even  amid  the  roar 
of  battle  rumbled  in  Madden's  ears.  It  was  the 
solemn  note  of  a  battleship  destroyed  by  its  own 
magazines.  When  the  smoke  cleared  away 
there  was  left  nothing  save  tossing  waves  and 
bits  of  flotsam  here  and  there. 

The  horror  of  the  tragedy  was  lost  for  Leon 
ard  in  another,  more  appalling  scene.  The  right 
central  battleship  had  lost  control  of  her  steering 
gear,  and  now  she  ran  wildly  amuck  in  the 
fleeing  line  like  a  drunken  giant  of  steel. 

Through  accident,  or  by  the  last  shift  of  sea 
manship,  she  veered  about  broadside  on,  her 
huge  guns  still  belching  defiance.  In  crazy 
flight,  she  barely  missed  one  of  her  own  squad 
ron,  then  rounded  back  in  a  great  circle  for  the 
English  line.  No  doubt  her  crew  did  not  try 
to  stop  her,  hoping  that  her  unguided  charge 
might  work  some  damage  to  the  enemy. 

On  she  came,  against  the  focussed  storm  of 
English  cannon,  her  prow,  forward  turrets, 


THE  BATTLE  327 

bridge,  masts,  fairly  disintegrated  under  a  basti 
nado  of  twelve  and  fourteen-inch  shells.  Yet  it 
seemed  as  if  she  would  survive  it  all  and  ram 
some  English  cruiser,  when  a  cloud  of  steam 
broke  out  of  her  hold.  A  lucky  shot  had 
exploded  her  boilers.  Her  wild  charge  ceased 
instantly,  but  her  sub-calibre  guns  still  chattered 
defiance  at  the  crushing  odds.  Giant  shells  were 
now  pounding  her  at  point-blank  range.  At 
some  stroke  of  a  cruiser  to  the  right  of  the 
Panther,  the  German  ship  heeled  heavily  on  her 
starboard  side. 

Through  his  glasses,  Madden  could  see  the 
sailors  still  struggling  to  work  the  guns,  though 
scores  of  them  were  wiped  from  the  deck  at 
every  English  shell.  Amid  clouds  of  smoke  the 
black  cross  of  the  German  battle  flag  fluttered 
undaunted. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  enemy  listed  until  her 
guns  were  at  such  a  high  angle  they  could  no 
longer  be  trained  against  the  enemy.  Her  for 
ward  turret  was  completely  blown  away.  Burst 
ing  shells  kept  a  constant  glare  around  her. 
Her  boiler  and  furnace  rendered  her  hold  unten 
able,  for  her  crew  came  out  of  the  smoke  and 


328      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

formed  orderly  platoons  on  her  crippled  deck. 
Shell's  swept  gaps  through  their  files,  but  they 
closed  again  in  regular  formation,  standing  oddly 
erect  on  the  tip-tilted  deck.  There  was  not  a  gun 
they  could  man,  not  a  blow  could  they  strike, 
yet  the  men  stood  firm  in  the  steel  cyclone 
sweeping  across  their  shattered  deck.  Then 
Madden  turned  his  lens  on  a  group  a  little  to 
one  side  of  the  main  formation,  and  his  eye 
caught  the  gleam  of  silver  horns,  the  rise  and 
fall  of  a  drummer's  arm,  the  fierce  beating  of 
a  director  with  a  baton.  It  was  the  ship's  musi 
cians.  The  band  was  playing,  the  men  were 
chanting  the  battle  hymn  of  the  empire;  out  of 
the  heart  of  the  foundering  cruiser,  out  of  the 
souls  of  the  passing  warriors  rose  triumphantly, 
"  Die  Wacht  am  Rhein." 

Sudden  tears  filled  the  eyes  of  the  American 
and  dimmed  the  splendid  sight.  He  turned 
impulsively  to  his  friend. 

"  Caradoc !  My  God ! )J  he  screamed  in  his 
car,  "why  don't  they  quit  firing!" 

"  Their  flag  is  still  flying  —  no  doubt  the 
halyards  are  shot  away!" 

Even  while   Smith  screamed,  a  sudden  and 


THE  BATTLE  329 

startling  attack  was  launched  from  the  Pan- 
therms  rapid  fire  and  machine  guns.  They 
sounded  a  shrill  treble  amid  the  profound  shak 
ing  bass  of  the  giant  cannon.  The  boys  looked 
sharply  about  to  see  the  object  of  this  abrupt 
attack,  when  they  suddenly  heard  the  shrill 
whistling  of  steel  all  about  their  ears. 

With  the  utmost  horror,  Madden  saw  every 
tiny  port  spouting  continuous  flame  in  his  direc 
tion.  Steel  frothed  the  sea  all  around  the  Vul 
can.  Missiles  struck  the  little  tug  and  glanced 
off  with  sharp  musical  twangs.  The  crew  of 
the  little  boat,  who  swarmed  on  deck,  wonder- 
struck  at  the  battle  of  the  giants,  suddenly 
darted  to  cover  with  wild  yells. 

"  They're  crazy !  They're  daft !  "  screamed 
Madden.  "  Shooting  at  us !  What's  the  matter 
with 'em?" 

Caradoc,  also,  seemed  to  share  the  madness. 
He  suddenly  spun  his  wheel  to  the  left,  veered 
in  a  sharp  circle,  and  dashed  straight  toward 
the  course  of  the  Panther  into  the  thickest  of 
the  hail.  Leonard  stood  beside  him,  frozen  stiff, 
when  straight  ahead,  he  suddenly  saw  a  peri 
scope  show  for  an  instant,  then  disappear  in  a 


330     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

little  swirl  of  water.  The  submarine  had  come 
into  the  action. 

The  tug  rushed  straight  through  the  bullet- 
rumpled  water  to  the  point  where  the  metal  fin 
had  disappeared,  like  a  terrier  dashing  at  a 
rathole. 

With  the  disappearance  of  the  submarine's 
*  eye,"  the  fusillade  ceased  abruptly.  The  great 
cannon  were  firing  more  slowly  now  and  there 
came  short  intervals  of  comparative  silence  in 
the  battle. 

From  the  bridge  Caradoc  bellowed  fiercely  at 
his  men :  "  Spread  around  the  rail  —  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  for  the  submarine ! "  The  crew 
came  back  with  a  will  now  that  they  learned  the 
bombardment  had  not  been  intended  for  them. 

In  the  meantime  the  tiny  David  had  put  the 
great  Goliath  to  flight.  The  Panther  was 
endeavoring  to  save  herself.  She  veered  out  of 
the  thundering  battle  line  and  zigzagged  east 
erly,  in  full  flight  from  any  enemy  that  she 
could  almost  drop  down  one  of  her  smokestacks. 

And  the  little  Vulcan  swung  about  in  an 
effort  to  keep  up  with  her  principal.  On  she 
rushed,  shaking  and  puffing  like  a  locomotive, 


THE  BATTLE  331 

her  bright  flags  flying  the  submarine  warning, 
as  if  the  speeding  giant  ahead  of  her  were  likely 
to  forget  it. 

Suddenly  Hogan  bawled  out:  "  By  th'  port! 
By  th'  port,  sir!  There  she  rises! " 

Another  shrill  storm  from  the  giant  showed 
that  the  gunners  aboard  the  Panther  also  saw 
the  periscope. 

Again  the  Vulcan  dashed  at  the  diving  terror 
as  it  disappeared  and  the  cruiser  swung  clear 
around  in  a  northerly  tack.  Her  commander 
was  trying  to  outguess  the  man  under  the  sea. 

A  strange  game  of  blind-man's-buff  the 
three  dissimilar  crafts  were  playing.  Caradoc 
assumed  the  submarine  pilot  would  guess  that 
the  Panther  had  fled  north,  and  he  sent  the  tug 
spitting  along  a  course  that  would  lie  between 
the  cruiser  and  her  enemy.  The  Panther  was 
forced  to  repass  the  Vulcan  in  the  new  maneu 
ver.  The  giant  and  pygmy  were  flying  along 
at  top  speed,  fairly  abreast,  scarcely  five  hun 
dred  yards  apart. 

Leonard  took  his  eyes  off  the  starboard  sea 
a  moment  to  look  at  the  lion  which  this  mouse 
was  trying  to  nibble  free,  when  suddenly,  not 


332     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

thirty  yards  on  the  inside  of  the  tug  popped  up 
the  periscope. 

The  American  rushed  to  the  wheel,  jerked  it 
to  the  starboard.  "  Yonder!  Yonder!"  he 
bellowed  in  Caradoc's  ear,  pointing. 

Again  the  guns  shrilled  forth;  a  steel  sleet 
wailed  about  the  Vulcan.  Into  the  teeth  of  this 
blast,  the  tug  circled  and  lunged. 

With  fascinated  eyes,  Madden  watched  the 
periscope  cut  a  swirling  circle  on  the  midst  of 
the  beaten  water  and  straighten  on  the  Panther. 

Now  the  metal  eye  was  directly  under  their 
swaying  starboard.  A  moment  they  sped  side 
by  side,  toward  the  imperiled  cruiser.  Madden 
could  almost  have  touched  the  wireless  masts. 
A  whine  of  bullets  ripped  one  of  their  life 
boats  like  a  saw  and  sputtered  through  the 
superstructure. 

The  periscope,  which  thrust  six  or  seven  feet 
out  of  water,  disappeared  under  the  swell  of  the 
Vulcan's  hull.  Suddenly  the  tug  swung  her 
blunt  beak  around  with  the  sidelong  blow  of 
an  angry  swine.  Madden  went  flying  to  the 
right  rail  of  the  bridge  to  stare  down  at  the 
imminent  tragedy. 


The  battle. 


THE  BATTLE  333 

A  dim  sKadowy  bulk  was  hurtling  through 
the  blue  water.  Suddenly,  just  as  the  tug's 
prow  swung  athwart  her  course,  the  submarine 
lined  up  straight  with  the  Panther.  A  great 
belching  of  bubbles  wallowed  up  through  the 
turbulent  sea  as  a  sign  that  the  torpedo  was 
launched. 

A  heart-stopping  moment,  in  which  the  diving 
boat,  the  darting  shadow  of  the  torpedo,  the 
blocking  prow  of  the  Vulcan  was  clear. 

A  titanic  upheaval  of  water;  volcanic  fires 
leaping  out  of  the  heart  of  the  deep;  a  roar  so 
absolutely  appalling  that  it  reduced  the  battle 
to  a  whisper! 

The  prow  of  the  Vulcan  reared  up  and  bent 
back  over  the  main  deck.  In  the  same  instant, 
out  of  the  cauldron  sea,  an  enormous  cigar- 
shaped  object  was  flung  end-over-end,  as  a  child 
flings  a  spindle.  There  was  one  flashing  glimpse 
of  conning  tower,  smashed  plates.  Then  a  clap 
of  surging  air  that  seemed  as  solid  as  oak  picked 
Madden  up  as  if  he  had  been  thistledown.  He 
felt  himself  whirling  through  space.  Somehow, 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  string  of  signals  that 
had  been  blown  from  the  wrecked  masts  of  the 


334     CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

shattered  Vulcan.    Then  he  felt  a  stinging  blow 
of  water  as  he  hit  the  sea. 

The   submarine  had  destroyed  both  herself 
and  the  tug  with  her  first  torpedo. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  VICTORIA  CROSS 

Shocked,  stunned,  half  blinded,  Madden  found 
himself  kicking  in  the  water  amidst  a  wreckage 
of  spars,  planks,  buoys,  with  here  and  there  a 
swimmer  struggling  to  stay  on  the  surface. 
The  whole  mass  of  flotsam  swung  slowly  around 
the  whirlpool  where  tug  and  submarine  had 
sunk. 

The  circling  water  was  filmed  with  oil,  the 
life-blood  of  the  stricken  submarine.  Presently 
the  concavity  in  the  ocean  mounted  to  level,  and 
its  rotation  slowly  died  away.  The  American 
found  that  his  arms  had  unwittingly  clasped 
something  which  proved  to  be  an  empty  tin 
canister  with  a  screw  top.  He  hung  to  it 
apathetically.  His  ears  bled  from  the  concus 
sion  of  the  torpedo,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  he  focussed  his  eyes  on  anything. 

Presently  he  became  aware  of  a  voice  calling 

335 


336      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

his  name.  It  seemed  a  long  way  off,  but  when 
he  looked  around  he  saw  Farnol  Greer  quite 
close  to  him.  The  thick-set  black-headed  fellow 
motioned  for  Madden  to  approach,  and  the 
American  kicked  himself  and  his  float  in  that 
direction.  A  little  later  he  saw  that  Malone 
was  with  Farnol,  and  that  the  two  were  sup 
porting  a  third  man. 

"  Lend  us  a  'and,  'ere,  Madden,"  called 
Malone ;  "  our  chap's  knocked  out." 

"Who  is  it?  Oh,  it's  Caradoc!"  Madden 
stared  down  into  the  still,  upturned  face  with  a 
dull  emotionless  feeling.  He  was  too  numb  to 
feel  or  sympathize.  "Is  he  dead?"  he  finally 
asked. 

"Wounded,  sir,"  replied  Greer. 

At  that  moment,  the  Englishman  moved 
slightly,  opened  his  eyes.  "We  —  stopped  it, 
Madden." 

"Are  you  badly  hurt?"  inquired  the  Ameri 
can,  becoming  more  nearly  normal  himself. 

"  Punch  through  my  shoulder." 

"  Were  you  hit  in  the  explosion?  " 

"One    of    the    Panther's    machine    guns  — 

ricocheted,  I  think." 


THE  VICTORIA  CROSS  337 

"What  rotten  luck!"  growled  Madden. 

Smith  reached  his  good  arm  to  the  float. 
"  Had  it  all  my  life  in  little  things,  Madden, 
but  the  Panther  —  that  torpedo " 

"  Boat  ahoy !  "  called  Farnol  Greer  suddenly. 

Leonard  looked  about  and  saw  that  the  Pan 
ther  had  laid  to,  a  good  two  miles  distant,  and 
two  of  her  cutters  were  coming  back  to  pick  up 
the  survivors.  A  blue-jacket  on  the  sharp  bow 
of  the  little  vessel  waved  an  arm  at  Farnol's 
cry,  and  presently  the  rescuing  party  was  along 
side.  Caradoc  went  up  first,  then  Farnol, 
Malone  and  Madden,  who  automatically  clung 
to  his  tin  canister. 

The  sailors  from  the  warship  were  chattering 
excitedly  over  the  miraculous  preservation  of 
the  Panther. 

"  If  that  tug  had  been  'arf  a  second  later," 
declared  one,  "  she'd  'ave  'ad  us,  Sniper,  sure 
—  to  th'  port,  there,  Bobby,  there's  another 
chap  kickin'  in  th'  water." 

One  of  the  sailors  had  a  roll  of  bandages,  and 
he  now  moved  over  to  Caradoc  and  stooped  over 
the  wounded  man. 

"  You're  pinked,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  author- 


338      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

ity.  "  I'll  take  a  turn  o'  this  linen  around  your 
shoulder."  Suddenly  he  paused  as  he  glanced 
into  the  sufferer's  face.  "  Why  —  why,  hit's  the 
Lieut'nant ! "  he  stammered.  Then  he  stood 
erect  and  saluted  properly.  "  Would  you  'ave  a 
bandage,  sir  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  different  one. 

Caradoc  assented  wearily  and  shifted  his 
shoulder  for  the  band  of  linen.  The  fellow 
must  have  been  a  surgeon's  helper,  for  he 
applied  the  strip  rather  dexterously  as  the  cut 
ter  steamed  about  picking  up  the  rest  of  the 
Vulcan's  crew  who  had  survived  the  catastrophe. 

Half  an  hour  later  friendly  hands  helped  the 
waifs  up  the  Panther's  accommodation  ladder, 
where  a  group  of  officers  and  men  waited  to  be 
of  service  to  the  Vulcan's  crew. 

The  deck  of  the  cruiser  was  torn  and  black 
ened  from  the  German  fire ;  here  and  there  were 
sailors  in  bandages.  Stretchers  were  placed  at 
the  head  of  the  ladder  for  the  tug's  wounded. 

The  crew;  of  the  Panther  showed  the  utmost 
cordiality  and  also  the  utmost  curiosity  toward 
their  visitors.  A  dapper  young  midshipman 
gripped  Madden's  hand  as  he  stepped  on  the 
broad  deck. 


THE  VICTORIA  CROSS  339 

"Where  did  that  tug  come  from?"  he 
inquired  at  once.  "Most  extraordinary  sight 
—  whole  fleet  pounding  away  at  a  tug  —  Pon- 
sonby  is  my  name." 

Madden  mentioned  his  own,  and  several 
brother  officers,  seeing  that  here  was  an  intel 
ligent  fellow,  gathered  about  the  American. 
Two  or  three  were  introduced  with  English 
formality. 

"  If  you  are  not  too  bowled  over,  old  chap," 
begged  a  middy  named  Gridson,  "  explain  to 
us  how  a  tug  ever  happened  in  the  middle  of 
the  Sargasso  in  full  flight  from  a  hostile  fleet." 

Some  of  the  wounded  were  still  coming  up 
from  the  cutter,  as  Madden  made  a  beginning 
of  the  tug's  story.  Just  then  he  was  interrupted 
by  Ponsonby. 

"  Pardon,  Madden,  but  who  is  that  chap 
coming  up  —  Say,  Gridson,  that  isn't  —  why 
that's  Wentworth ! "  The  middy  suddenly 
dropped  his  voice.  "  That's  Wentworth  or  his 
ghost,  fellows  —  off  of  a  tug!" 

Madden  looked.  Smith  was  coming  on  the 
deck  under  the  solicitous  escort  of  a  surgeon. 

"  That's  Caradoc  Smith,"  said  Madden.    "  He 


340      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

assumed  command  of  tHe  tug  when  Ke  found 
out  war  was  declared." 

"  Smith  was  part  of  his  name,"  explained 
Gridson.  "  Caradoc  Smith- Wentworth  was  the 
way  he  signed  the  register.  He's  of  the  Sussex 
Smith- Wentworths.  His  brother  took  the  title, 
you  know." 

"  Just  fancy !  "  marveled  Ponsonby.  "  Cash 
iered  six  months  ago,  comes  back  chasing  sub 
marines  on  a  tug,  a  hero,  from  boot  strap  to 
helmet  —  a  bloody  hero " 

"Hold  there,  Ponsonby,"  cautioned  another 
officer  named  Appleby.  "  The  chap  may  be  hurt 
seriously  —  you  oughtn't  to  laugh." 

"  Just  look  at  the  old  man  shaking  his  hand !  " 
ejaculated  Gridson,  as  a  very  erect  gray-headed 
officer  came  down  off  the  bridge  and  extended 
his  hand.  "You  wouldn't  think  he  had  cash 
iered  him  six  months  ago." 

"  I  hope  he  gets  his  commission  back,"  said 
Ponsonby,  "  but  he  will  likely  lose  it  again  from 
tippling." 

"  I  believe  lie  is  cured,"  said  Madden. 

Appleby  made  some  reply  as  the  little  group 
moved  forward  to  meet  the  wounded  man. 


THE  VICTORIA  CROSS  341 

However,  the  surgeon  and  three  senior  officers 
were  walking  with  him  below  to  the  ship's 
hospital. 

It  required  two  full  days  to  get  the  Panther 
into  shipshape  condition,  and  during  that  time 
the  entire  fleet  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  the 
German  mother  ship,  but  that  huge  mysterious 
vessel  had  disappeared  as  utterly  as  if  the 
Sargasso  had  swallowed  her  up. 

Perhaps  she  did  destroy  herself  to  prevent 
capture,  or  perhaps  her  sky-blue  hue  allowed 
the  fleet  to  sail  under  her  very  prow  while  she 
remained  invisible.  No  doubt  the  two  German 
warships  which  escaped  had  warned  their  con 
sort  of  her  danger,  and  she  had  sailed  for  some 
port  in  German  Africa.  At  any  rate  she  was 
never  captured  or  destroyed. 

However,  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day, 
the  looming  red  walls  of  the  floating  dock 
appeared  on  the  eastern  horizon.  It  was  so 
huge  and  vast  that  even  the  crew  of  the  battle 
ship  burst  into  a  cheer. 

Captain  Ames  of  the  Panther  immediately 
communicated  with  the  admiralty  and  arrange 
ments  were  made  to  tow  the  dock  to  Antigua, 


342      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

where  she  would  be  kept  as  a  naval  reserve  until 
the  end  of  the  war  and  then  allowed  to  proceed 
to  Buenos  Aires. 

The  British  Towing  and  Shipping  Company 
was  repaid  for  the  loss  of  the  Vulcan,  and  a 
prize  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  distrib 
uted  among  the  tug's  crew  for  sinking  the 
submarine.  Thus  the  dreams  of  wealth  aroused 
by  the  ill-fated  Minnie  B  were  realized  in  a 
small  way  by  the  dock's  crew.  No  doubt 
Deschaillon  has  his  frog  pond,  old  Mrs.  Galton 
her  plot  of  flowers,  and  Hogan  a  tall  hat,  a 
long-tailed  coat  and  a  silver-headed  cane. 

One  week  after  the  Battle  of  the  Sargasso, 
a  formal  dinner  was  given  in  the  officers' 
mess.  At  this  affair  two  civilians  were 
present,  Leonard  Madden  and  Caradoc  Smith- 
Wentworth. 

Under  the  radiance  of  many  electric  lights, 
Caradoc  appeared  rather  weak  and  bloodless. 
However,  everyone  seemed  quite  cheerful.  The 
talk  was  naturally  of  the  war.  The  officers 
were  speculating  upon  the  entrance  of  Italy 
and  Turkey  into  the  struggle. 

Presently  Captain  Ames  touched  an  electric 


THE  VICTORIA  CROSS  343 

button  and  Gaskin,  serene,  deferential  and 
wearing  an  added  dignity  along  with  his  new 
uniform,  entered  the  cabin  with  a  basket  full 
of  ice  and  bottles  on  his  arm. 

When  his  helpers  had  cleared  the  table,  the 
fat  fellow  moved  decorously  from  diner  to  diner, 
announcing  each  port  of  call  by  the  subdued 
pop  of  a  champagne  cork  muffled  in  his  napkin. 
Madden  shook  his  head  when  the  solemn  fellow 
bent  solicitously  over  him.  "  Make  mine  water, 
Gaskin,"  he  requested  in  an  undertone,  laying 
three  fingers  over  his  goblet. 

The  cook  changed  almost  imperceptibly  from 
a  straw  colored  bottle  to  a  glittering  carafe  of 
water;  then  he  moved  to  Caradoc. 

The  Englishman  hesitated  a  moment,  glanced 
at  Madden  and  said,  "  Same  thing,  Gaskin." 

Captain  Ames  must  have  observed  his  action, 
and  showed  his  silent  approval  by  requesting 
water  for  himself.  A  few  moments  later  the 
captain  arose. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  began  in  his  crisp  military 
voice,  "His  Majesty,  and  all  England,  are 
greatly  pleased  at  the  work  of  the  South  Atlantic 
fleet.  In  the  report  of  our  recent  victory,  the 


344      CRUISE  OF  THE  DRY  DOCK 

commander  of  the  Panther  had  an  extremely 
cogent  reason  to  commend  very  heartily  the 
action  of  a  former  officer  of  this  vessel.  To  be 
exact  and  fair,  it  was  an  act  upon  which  the 
safety  of  this  vessel  and  her  crew  depended." 

A  little  polite  applause  filled  the  slight  interval 
in  the  speech.  Caradoc  colored  somewhat  and 
the  captain  continued. 

"It  is  pleasant  to  me  to  announce  that  His 
Majesty,  through  the  Admiralty,  has  seen  fit  to 
reward  this  act  by  tendering  Caradoc  Smith- 
Wentworth  his  commission  as  first  lieutenant 
in  His  Majesty's  navy." 

A  real  outburst  of  applause  greeted  this 
announcement,  but  the  captain  held  up  his  glass 
and  raised  his  voice  for  silence. 

"And  I  have  the  further  pleasure  to  tender 
to  Mr.  Smith-Wentworth,  at  his  Majesty, 
George  the  Fifth's,  express  command,  the  Vic 
toria  Cross  for  conspicuous  bravery  upon  the 
field  of  battle." 

"  Let  us  drink  his  health !  "  he  finished  above 
the  congratulatory  uproar  that  broke  out  on 
the  announcement. 

The  men  held  their  goblets  at  arm's  length. 


THE  VICTORIA  CROSS  345 

"Here's  to  you,  Wentworth!"  "To  your 
deserved  honor,  my  boy!"  "To  your  well- 
earned  promotion,  Wentworth ! "  they  chorused 
heartily. 

In  the  lull  of  drinking,  Madden  lifted  his 
water  to  his  friend. 

"  Here's  to  the  remittance  man,"  he  proposed 
solemnly,  "who  vanishes  to-night  and  leaves  a 
Man." 

Caradoc's  long  face  was  deeply  moved  as  he 
looked  into  the  eyes  of  the  youth  whose  life 
Providence  had  so  intimately  entwined  with  his 
own.  After  a  moment  he  responded  steadily 
enough,  "With  all  my  heart,  Madden.  And 
here's  to  the  land  which  you  taught  me 
how  to  serve,  my  country  —  my  home  —  Old 
England!" 


7bUbO 


M29380 


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